Final Fantasy VII 1. Chapter 1

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 1

* * *

Author's note: Be forewarned that this fanfic is very AU, though I intend to do my best to keep everyone's personalities in character. Any explicit sex scenes or excessive gore will be removed from chapters uploaded to this site, to comply with FFnet's censorship policies. Notice will be posted in Author's notes when a chapter has been censored, and you can view uncensored chapters at Archive of our Own, Ygallery or Affnet-which I have linked on my profile.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

"Will you feast this evening, my king?"

Aqua eyes possessed of an unearthly glow looked up from the book held in the elegant hands. The gaze was faintly annoyed, expressing displeasure at the distraction from the literature.

"I think this evening, I prefer to dine alone. I shall inform you when and if I deign to hold another banquet, Asim."

The royal advisor bowed respectfully, his waist-length, raven braid falling over his shoulder with the motion. When he straightened up again, his green-gold eyes studied the great seraph with quiet concern. "Pharaoh, you seem troubled by something. Can I do anything?"

The auburn-haired being shook his head and sighed, reclining further in the pillows of the ornate, gilded lounge. "I'm restless. I find myself bored and dispassionate." The stunning, kohl-lined eyes looked up at the ebon-skinned advisor. "I'm not meant to be so...lethargic. Nothing excites me, these days. What would you suggest for that?"

"A distraction," offered Asim with an understanding smile. "Perhaps some time outside, under the sun. Go and visit the harvest lands, or the mountains. Your subjects would be thrilled and inspired by your presence, even if you only briefly graced them with it."

The seraph considered it. He tapped his manicured, golden-lacquered nails on the cover of his book, and he finally shrugged. He sat upright and he placed his book on the golden nightstand beside his lounge. He stood up and stretched, arching his back leisurely, in a cat-like manner. Toned muscles bunched and relaxed beneath smooth skin tanned golden by the sun.

"See to it that Sheba gets a good lunch," ordered the Pharaoh, reaching down to pet the tawny caracal lounging at his feet. She lifted her head and purred, rubbing her cheek against his hand affectionately as he gave her a scratch.

Asim bowed again. "Of course, my king. Don't forget your mask."

The seraph obligingly retrieved said mask from where it hung on the back wall of his chambers. He secured it over his face, hiding his features from the mouth up beneath the golden likeness of a falcon. Only his most trusted advisors and associates were permitted to look upon his bare face. He stretched his back again, and a raven wing grew from the left side of it, expanding until it stretched halfway across the room. He flapped it gently to work the circulation and ease the stiffness.

"I'll return by nightfall," promised the seraph.

Asim nodded. "Shall I arrange for someone to warm your bed this evening?"

The redhead thought of it. He hadn't enjoyed physical intimacy with anyone in months, but it all seemed so...sordid. He didn't connect with the mortals he took to his bed. They were short-lived creatures, doomed to wither and die before his eyes. Legends told of an elixir of immortality that would grant any mortal eternal life—within reason. Like the seraphim, they could still be killed through violence or fall prey to illness, but they would never age past a certain point, if they imbibed.

The Pharaoh of the west was quite possibly the only one of the three Seraphim that actually believed such an elixir existed, but then, he was given to daydreams. Not that it mattered, of course. He had yet to find a mortal he'd be interested in sharing eternity with, and he had no desire to share a bed _or_ his kingdom with either of his fellow seraphs.

"Pharaoh, on the matter of succession," Asim said hesitantly as he walked beside his ruler to the chamber exit, "we still haven't discussed the possibility of an heir."

"There hasn't been a female seraph born in hundreds of years," reminded the Pharaoh, "and even if there were, you know where my interests lie."

"Yes, but perhaps a mortal woman could—"

"I won't bed a mortal except for fleeting pleasure," interrupted the seraph. "and I certainly have no interest in the females. You know the chances of a conception between seraph and human are ridiculously slim, in the first place."

Asim bowed his head respectfully. "Yes, my king. I only wanted you to consider it, for the future of your kingdom."

"I'll choose a successor in due time, when I feel I've found a mortal in this kingdom worthy of the title, should something happen to me."

Asim bowed deeper, from the waist. "Forgive me."

The Pharaoh made a dismissive gesture, and he opened the heavy, reinforced doors to his bedchamber and stepped out into the great hall. His guards saluted him and he strode past them, his bare feet barely making a whisper of sound as he walked the length of the rectangular swimming pool in the center of it. The sphinx fountain in the middle of the pool fed fresh water into it through the advanced irrigation system. Many times, that pool had been filled with the lusty, naked bodies of men and women, enjoying the generous entertainment of their ruler.

More guards saluted him, lifting their elaborate spears in respect as he passed by them. He squinted against the sunlight as he stepped out of the palace, and he looked up at the clear blue sky, trying to decide where he wanted to go first. He hadn't been to the gem mines in a while. Perhaps there were some interesting new finds there to enjoy. Ignoring the slaves that practically threw themselves prostrate to the ground at the sight of him, he spread his wing and took to the sky.

* * *

"Pharaoh!" The foreman dropped his pick and knelt before the seraph as he landed in the miner's encampment. "You honor us. Would you like to see our latest finds? Perhaps choose some gems to have your jewelers make new trinkets?"

He inclined his auburn head in a graceful gesture. "That would please me."

The foreman shouted at the taskmasters, ordering them to bring a mining cart over for their ruler's inspection. The nearest one nodded and he shouted orders to the slaves he was in charge of. The Pharaoh noticed one of them immediately, and he found himself staring. He was a tall, powerful specimen with shoulder-length, dark hair, sideburns and facial stubble lining his squared jaw. He had a stern look about him, as if he were meant to be a leader. As he obeyed the directive given to him and pushed the gem cart to him, the seraph discovered that his eyes were a deep blue color; like the color of the deep ocean, far from land.

"Who is he?" murmured the seraph to his foreman, nodding at the slave. His eyes roved over the muscular body with appreciation. The brunet was fair-skinned like himself, but he'd gained a tan from working in the sun. His broad shoulders bore evidence of sunburn, hinting that he hadn't been exposed to the desert climate for that long. He found himself wondering what sort of endowments were hidden beneath that loincloth.

"The slave?" The foreman scratched his chin as he thought it over. "I believe they said he was brought here all the way from the southeastern island of Mideel, my king. Was it...Banora? It's a small village on the—"

"I know where Banora is," interrupted the seraph, regarding the new slave with even greater interest.

"Kneel before the Pharaoh, slave," ordered the taskmaster when the brunet finished pushing the cart over to them.

The big man gave him a silent look that promised things would be very different between them, if he weren't in chains. He looked at the seraph, his forehead sparkling with perspiration. He obeyed slowly, getting to his knees before lying prostrate as directed.

"Rise," instructed the Pharaoh. He found the man's every action intriguing. This was no broken slave. There was pride and bravery, in this one. When the slave obeyed him and got back to his feet, his blue eyes gazed calmly into the seraph's. His wrists were un-shackled so that he could work as directed, but his ankles were hobbled. Most of the other slaves in the area no longer required chains to be kept in line.

"How long have you been here?" queried the seraph.

The big man shrugged, his gaze never wavering. The Pharaoh felt a little thrill go through him. Attractive..._very_ attractive. "It's not easy to say," he answered in a deep, low voice. "A couple of months, maybe."

"Hmm." The seraph let his gaze wander that toned body again. "Turn around."

The slave hesitated, and the taskmaster raised his whip threateningly. He slowly did as directed, presenting his strong, broad back. The seraph reached out to trace the scars lining that gorgeous back, and he frowned with displeasure. "I see you've earned marks for disobedience." He looked at the foreman. "Was it warranted?"

The big, dark-skinned man shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "He refuses orders at times, my king. The taskmasters punish when necessary."

"Of that, I have no doubt," sighed the seraph. "Turn back around to face me, slave."

The big man did as he was told, and now there was curiosity in his smoldering gaze. That thrill went through the redhead again and he thought that perhaps it might be worth having this one brought to his chambers, some night.

"What are you called?"

"Angeal," answered the man in that low baritone.

The seraph found the name very much to his liking, and he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Angeal."

The slave's high cheekbones gained a hint of color then, and the seraph smiled crookedly. Perhaps the fascination wasn't one-sided. He looked at the foreman. "See to it that he's well fed, watered and bathed each night. You may find you'll get better results, that way."

Angeal tilted his head in a subtle, barely perceptible manner, expressing puzzlement. "I'm...grateful for your kindness, my Pharaoh." He knelt before him, this time without needing to be prompted by his captors.

"Kindness?" The seraph smirked with amusement, his tone a caressing purr. "You clearly know nothing about me, Angeal. I simply keep my trinkets well cared for."

The slave grimaced slightly, his face flushing with humiliation now, rather than desire. "A lesson I won't forget again," he murmured.

"You should know the name of your master, I think," said the Pharaoh, "I'm Genesis. Have a care not to speak my name freely, however."

Genesis turned to the foreman. "I'd prefer to avoid further damage to his skin. I want protective oils applied to it each working day, to ensure it doesn't incur sun damage. Whipping is only permitted when absolutely necessary to put him in line. Is any of that unclear?"

"No, my king." The foreman bowed deeply. "We live to serve."

Genesis nodded in satisfaction. Giving Angeal one last, long look, he spread his wing again and left. He'd come to browse gems, and he'd definitely found one.

* * *

Angeal watched the seraph fly away, and he couldn't help but admire the grace of his flight—and feel a little envious. One of the other slaves stopped beside him and sighed, watching their retreating ruler with awe.

"I've seen his face before, you know," said the young man.

Angeal looked sidelong at him. A part of him was curious to see what Genesis looked like under the golden falcon mask. His eyes were absolutely mesmerizing, and his voice had an erotic purr to it.

"What does he look like?" Angeal finally asked.

"Beautiful." The other slave smirked. "And I'm saying that as a man who prefers women. Come, we'd best get back to work, before the taskmaster flails our backs again."

Angeal kept looking over his shoulder at the dwindling seraph as he joined the other man, walking back towards the mine to resume his duties.

* * *

"Master, I'm so glad you've returned," enthused Asim. "King Sephiroth is here, demanding an audience."

Genesis looked up at the evening sky with a sigh. "What in Minerva's name is that arrogant, serpent-loving—"

"My Pharaoh," interjected the advisor, pointing at something behind the redhead.

Genesis shut his eyes and uttered a curse beneath his breath. He turned around to face another seraph with flowing, impossibly long silver hair and slit-pupiled emerald eyes. Sephiroth's face was concealed in a manner similar to Genesis, except that his mask was in the likeliness of a cobra.

He wore a pair of black, supple leather boots that went up to the thigh, and his loincloth was decorated with serpentine symbols. A torque in the shape of a serpent hugged his throat, and a similar piece of jewelry was wrapped around his bicep. Unlike Genesis, Sephiroth maintained a fair complexion. He lorded over the Temple of Ancients in the woodlands area, where the thick canopy of trees shaded residents from the sun.

"A pleasure to see you again too, Genesis." The sculpted mouth curved into a sardonic smile. "Your hospitality is lacking, however."

"When you arrive unannounced, you shouldn't expect a banquet in your honor," countered Genesis.

He looked at the blond human standing beside Sephiroth. He was a handsome sort, in a sophisticated, domestic way. He dressed in the manner of the humans of the big eastern continent, north of Sephiroth's kingdom. He wore a combination of dress pants and a button-up shirt, and a pair of glasses with oval-shaped lenses. His blond hair feathered softly over his brow and fell to his collar. He still found it rather disgusting that Sephiroth had taken the human as his consort—a position no mere mortal should ever be worthy of. It wasn't his business, though.

"Family needs no announcement, does it?" Sephiroth's cool emerald gaze held Genesis'. "I came to discuss the issues with the humans of Midgar."

"That again? I thought you had the southern part of that continent secured, by now."

"I do, but the northern settlements are rebelling. Rufus Shinra is causing quite a stir."

"I see." Genesis thought about the frustrating mortal leader. His human title of nobility was "President Shinra", and he ran a tight military organization named after his bloodline. He was by far the more aggressive of the two remaining major human leaders. Tseng in Wutai occasionally raised a fuss, but Zackary always managed to pacify him.

"Send the wolf to deal with him," suggested Genesis. "He'll do some foolish thing that will have the humans in stitches or bending over for him. The pup is good at that sort of thing."

"I'm afraid Lord Fair's antics won't work with Rufus," said the human at Sephiroth's side.

Genesis narrowed his eyes on him. "Were you asked for your opinion?"

"Lazard is Rufus Shinra's half-brother," Sephiroth replied before the human could say anything, "and he's one of my most trusted advisors. I suggest you treat him as such."

Genesis suppressed a sigh. Yes, royal advisors, consorts and physicians were to be respected, mortal or not. So long as they knew their place and didn't overstep themselves, they deserved some measure of respect for their station. Genesis gave Lazard a polite nod, gathering his manners.

"Pardon my lack of manners. It's been a tiring day. So tell me, Lazard, why do you think the wolf lord of Gongaga would fail to impress your half-brother, when he so easily charms other mortals?"

"Because Rufus never puts pleasure before politics," answered Lazard obligingly. "He has a calculating mind, and he's determined to take back the land that he's lost to the Seraphim."

"And Tseng isn't?" pressed Genesis.

"Tseng is more inclined to put the best interests of his people above personal conquest," supplied Sephiroth. "Although, if Rufus desires an alliance with Wutai, he may accept."

"They're too far removed from one another," Genesis reasoned. "How would they converge on our kingdoms, with both of theirs on two separate continents?"

"They aren't the only human kingdoms remaining," reminded Lazard with a lift of a brow. "They're simply the high rulers of their perspective lands. Not only are their numbers greater despite their lack of weaponry, but they could incite your own followers to rebel against you."

Genesis stared at the human with lazy boredom. "Wouldn't that be interesting?" He looked at Sephiroth and he made a grand gesture at the entrance to the royal palace. "Well, since you're already here, you may as well make yourself comfortable. I'll have the servants prepare a feast in the great hall. I can't speak for both of us, but I for one would like to take this bothersome mask off."

"Agreed." Sephiroth took the invitation, tucking his wing in and putting a possessive arm around his human pet. Genesis rolled his eyes and followed them in.

* * *

The banquet was a trying affair for both seraphs. Genesis and Sephiroth had always shared a rivalry with each other, even as they mutually respected one another's power. Their youngest "brother" was always caught between them whenever there was a gathering of the Seraphim, and poor Zackary always resorted to foolish antics to distract them from arguing with each other.

Genesis found himself listening to Lazard's perspective more than he cared to admit, when Sephiroth encouraged the human to give his input on the discussion. Lazard really seemed to have a firm grasp on human politics from his region—but then, he'd willingly turned his back on his people to join Sephiroth's kingdom and become his consort. He grudgingly allowed the spectacled man some measure of respect that wasn't feigned.

Sephiroth and his consort stayed the night in the palace, granted one of the extravagant sleeping chambers reserved for royal guests. After bathing, Genesis lay down to sleep and he found himself unable to find rest. His thoughts kept meandering back to that gorgeous new slave working the mines, and he began to entertain thoughts of having him moved closer to Menephera. His body was restless after going for so long without erotic company.

He squirmed beneath the gauzy sheets covering his nudity and he sighed, parting his lips as he pictured Angeal's riveting blue gaze and handsome, chiseled features. He imagined the muscles rippling over that strong back as the human worked the mines, breaking rocks and lifting boulders. He was tempted to fly back in the morning just to watch him work.

"Who's to say anything is wrong with enjoying a well-built mortal?" sighed Genesis. His parents had made sure to school him well in his place in life, constantly reminding him that his human subjects were beneath him. Human royalty was beneath him. He was a god. He owed them no respect and they should be thankful for his protection. That was the philosophy that had been drilled into his head since birth, and it lived with him even after their deaths.

Sexual interactions with humans was only acceptable because there were no other seraph available. His father always warned him not to confuse pleasure with love, though. It was acceptable to feel a certain level of fondness for them, but he was never, ever to fall in love with one.

"And there's certainly no rule against pleasuring myself to the thought of one of them," Genesis reasoned.

He slipped a hand beneath the sheets, seeking out his swelling cock. He shut his eyes and imagined it was his slave's big, rough hand curling around his sex and he sighed, pushing into his grip. He licked his lips and he imagined what it would be like for that stern mouth to soften with desire against his. He'd coax Angeal to part his lips and then he would—

"Pharaoh?"

The knock at the solid, oaken doors to his chambers and the soft call rudely interrupted the fantasy. Genesis' eyes popped open wide and he glared up at the canopy draping his semi-enclosed, massive bed.

"Goddess, I can't even fuck myself without interruption," he growled.

"My king, forgive me, but there has been an...incident...at the mines."

Genesis sighed, releasing his now deflating erection. He struggled into a sitting position and composed himself with difficulty. "Enter."

Asim pushed the doors open and he strode in, kneeling reverently before his naked master. "You asked me to keep you informed of the status of the slave you were interested in."

Genesis' frown returned. "What of him?" Remembering the mine collapse that occurred earlier in the year and killed several workers, he tensed. "What sort of 'incident', Asim?"

"The Banoran slave attacked one of the taskmasters. I've gotten word that they've whipped him within an inch of his life."

"Why did he attack him?" asked Genesis, holding back his fury at the thought of the skin being flailed from that man's perfect body.

"Apparently the taskmaster wouldn't allow one of the other slaves a drink of water, as punishment for failing to do a satisfactory job. Your Angeal intervened and tried to share his water with him. When the taskmaster ordered him to stop, he refused. He tried to discipline him, but the slave took the whip from him and struck him with it."

Genesis' brows shot up. "Hmm. And they lashed him for it without consulting me?"

"I believe they were under the impression that violence against his handlers would be reason enough for the punishment," answered Asim. "His wounds have been bound, but..."

Genesis scowled. "I've heard enough." He stalked over to the huge, cherrywood wardrobe and he opened it to select a garment. "Rouse the physicians and tell them to be prepared to treat my slave's injuries. What is the name of the handler responsible for inflicting Angeal's punishment?"

"Er...Hamud, my king. He's been known for his short temper."

"I think he'll find mine is even shorter," announced Genesis. He snatched a heavily embroidered loincloth out of the wardrobe and he put it on. Once that was done, he retrieved his crimson-bladed sword and its scabbard.

"Pharaoh, perhaps you should calm yourself first."

Genesis shot a glare at him as he secured the scabbard's straps to his naked torso. "Perhaps you should remember your place. My instructions were simple enough, and they not only chose to ignore them, they brutalized a slave that was under my protection." He grabbed his mask off the wall and put it on as an afterthought.

Asim cringed and he knelt in supplication, keeping his head bowed as the angry seraph manifested his wing and stalked out of the bedchamber. The royal advisor winced as the doors slammed like thunder behind Genesis, and he half-expected one of them to fall off its hinges.

* * *

His back felt like it was on fire, and the blood was soaking through the dirty bandages they'd wrapped it with. One of his fellow slaves was dabbing at the side of his face with a wet rag, trying to cool the fever that was rising in his body.

"You should not have done that," whispered the older man.

Angeal tried to lift his head and failed. His cheek rested on his crossed arms and he gave the other man a weak attempt at a smile. "They...shouldn't have...refused you water."

The older man bowed his head. "You have your whole life ahead of you. My years are limited. I fear you'll pay the ultimate price for this, young man."

"Then at least...I won't die knowing I stood by...and did nothing."

There was a ruckus from outside, followed by pleading cries from the man that had beaten Angeal so severely. The big man tried to lift his head again and he groaned at the flash of agony that shot through his body at the motion.

"Be still," advised his companion. "I'll go and see what is happening."

* * *

"B-but Pharaoh, he _attacked_ me! Our laws specifically forbid a slave to strike out against its handlers or masters!"

"That's of no importance," Genesis said in a low, dangerous voice, his eyes glowing behind his mask. "I specifically told you _not_ to whip that slave unless it was absolutely necessary. I was told you didn't even attempt to subdue and isolate him, before you flailed the skin from his back. You've damaged something of value to me, tarnished it before I—"

Genesis compressed his lips in a fury, unable to find words to explain his anger, because he didn't fully understand it himself. So the slave was attractive...many were. He was only a slave; and a troublemaker, at that. But he was _his_. Genesis had already chosen him to be at least a pleasant diversion for a time, and now this buffoon dared to go against his instructions and damage the man—possibly beyond repair.

"Please, be merciful," pleaded the taskmaster, falling to his knees before Genesis. He bowed his back and started to kiss the seraph's feet in a fawning matter that had Genesis scowling. "I only did as my duties require!"

That excuse only angered Genesis beyond the point of reason. He drew his sword and he brought it down with supernatural force, directly on the groveling servant's neck. The man's head severed smoothly and his body fell to the side, twitching spasmodically. Genesis placed a foot on the bloody head to keep it from rolling away, and he looked at the foreman, the remaining taskmasters and the nearby slaves with coldly dispassionate eyes.

"Have the flesh cleaned from this and the skull polished. I want it made into a planter."

"Y-yes, Master," agreed the foreman, his knees quaking.

"Bring Angeal out to me. I want a chariot prepared for me to take him to the palace."

He would have tried to fly him there, but Angeal was a tall, solid man and even with his preternatural strength, Genesis couldn't be sure he could get him there that way without jostling him too much. His servants hastened to comply and he looked down at the body of the fool that had dared to damage his pet.

"The vultures will eat well, tomorrow."

* * *

"What's all this?" Sephiroth asked as he stepped out of the guest chamber, roused from his sleep by the noise as the physicians carried a blood-drenched slave into the palace on a cot. Genesis stalked behind them, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Disobedient subjects," answered the redhead, removing his mask. "That's what."

Lazard came out behind his king, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Is there a problem?"

Sephiroth raised a silvery brow at the way Genesis stood over the physicians, watching as they worked over the handsome young slave they'd brought in. "That depends on your definition of the word."

Lazard squinted with near-sighted concentration at the group, unable to see the details from his vantage point. "Should I attempt to assist them?" He gave Genesis' pet caracal a wary look as the animal strolled past, making a beeline for her master to greet him and see what all the fuss was about. She made a purring sound that was something between a growl and a meow, and Genesis absently dropped a hand on her head and stroked it.

Sephiroth shook his head, regarding Genesis with sly, quiet amusement. "No, I think they have this handled. Let's return to our bed."

Lazard offered no objection. He slipped a hand down Sephiroth's back to stroke his bottom with familiar ardor, and they retreated back into the room together.

* * *

The moan of pain from the slave as the physicians worked over him made Genesis clench his jaw.

"No, Sheba," he warned when his caracal started to go to Angeal to investigate. Fearing she'd react negatively to the scent of the blood, he took her collar and guided her away. He retrieved one of her leashes from the wall and he handed it over to one of his guards.

"Feed her something and make sure she stays out, until they finish with him and clean up the blood."

The guard bowed and he took the leash to do as he was bid. The cat reluctantly followed, casting a golden-eyed glance over her tawny shoulder at her master as if asking him what she did wrong.

"I'll brush you later, princess," promised Genesis. "Behave."

While the animal was led outside, Genesis turned around and walked over to the side of the pool, where they had lain Angeal down. He watched as they cleaned his wounds and selected potions, salves and tonics from their supply bags.

"The scarring should be minimal, despite how awful it looks," assured the lead physician. "Had it been left to fester, it would have been another matter. We will apply the healing potions as soon as we've finished cleaning the wounds."

Genesis nodded, absently rubbing his arms as he watched them work. "He'll survive?"

"I'm confident that he will," answered the head physician, "but he needs rest, and he'll need to be watched carefully for fever during his recovery."

Genesis' next words shocked even him. "Put him in my bed, when you've finished healing him. He's to stay in my chambers during his recovery."

He frowned as soon as the words left his mouth, but he carefully schooled his expression into the usual aloof mask when the healers gaped at him. "Did I not speak clearly enough?"

Angeal cried out again when they got back to work and one of them was forced to dig out a barb that had gotten lodged into one of the wounds. The head physician held Angeal's hand solicitously and murmured for him to be still. The big man trembled, and then he suddenly went still.

"What happened?" demanded Genesis, annoyed by the thought that his new toy might die before he could play with him.

"He's just passed out, my king," answered one of the healers. "This is actually better for us. We will try to finish before he regains consciousness."

Genesis sighed. He kept telling himself that as he hovered over the physicians, and he wasn't even aware of it when his wing came out and began to fan the air gently over the ailing slave, cooling the air for him.

* * *

_Late the next morning:_

His stomach growled at the smell of food, and he inhaled deeply. This wasn't hard bread or gruel he was smelling; it was meat and cheese and he detected fruit, as well. Angeal cracked his eyes open slowly, wincing at the sparse light filtering in through the latticed windows. He waited for his vision to adjust, and he lifted his head off of the soft, silken pillow to look around with confusion.

"Nnhm?"

The incoherent murmur came out hoarse, and his throat felt parched. Someone came to his side, and Angeal looked up to see perhaps the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on, looking down at him. He could only stare blankly up at the sculpted features, framed by a feathered mass of auburn hair that fell to the shoulders. The compelling aqua gaze was familiar to him though, as were the shapely lips. When the young man parted those lips and spoke to him, he knew he was looking upon the face of the Pharaoh.

"You're a fool."

Angeal frowned in confusion. "I've...clearly offended you." He attempted to shift, to get his arms beneath him so that he could at least attempt to make the proper gesture of respect, but his back muscles seemed to lock up and he fell back to his stomach, grunting with the effort to hold back a moan.

Genesis carried a tray over to the side of the bed. "Consider yourself _very_ fortunate, Angeal. It's not every day that a slave gets to be waited on by his master."

"I'll...keep that in mind," promised the slave. He managed to get himself propped on his elbows and he sucked in a couple of sharp breaths, waiting for the muscle spasms to stop torturing his back. "Where am I...Master?" His mouth twisted bitterly at the last word, and he quickly forced it back into a neutral line. Self-preservation won over pride.

"In my _personal_ chambers." Genesis said it with special emphasis, as if to enunciate just how lucky he was. "Don't get too accustomed to it, however. The only reason you're here now is so that I can personally oversee your recovery. Once you've regained your strength, you'll be sleeping in the slave pens again."

"Then I should enjoy it...while I can," sighed Angeal. His stomach growled and he glanced covertly at the food. "May I have something to eat?"

"That's what it's here for," answered the Pharaoh caustically.

Angeal looked at him again, unable to help himself. He studied him from head to toe, taking in the swimmer's build, the golden tan of the smooth skin, the tight abs, and the bejeweled, gold-threaded loincloth. He wore a golden bracelet on each wrist, a faience beaded collar of gold, red and blue colors, and hooked earrings of flattened copper hanging from his earlobes. It was very difficult to look away from him, and he thought it was probably a good thing he never showed his face to the common people of his kingdom. Nothing would ever get done, if he did.

"Are you going to eat, or are you going to stare at me for the rest of the morning?" The seraph's mouth curved into an amused, sexy little half-smile.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd rather stare at him, but Angeal reminded himself of his predicament and he carefully rolled onto his side, exhaling slowly to cope with the discomfort. He reached out for the bread first, sensible enough to take it slow and see how his stomach handled it.

"May I ask you something?" Angeal said after having a bite and swallowing it.

Genesis poured some water from the silver pitcher into the goblet and he slid it closer to him. "That depends on the question."

"Why did you spare me?"

Genesis' expression went blank. "Because I have plans for you that don't include feeding the carrion. I gave orders concerning your treatment, and they were disobeyed. I don't know if you're familiar with the old adage: 'if you want something done right, you must do it yourself.' _That_, my fine fool, is why you're lying here in my bed, rather than baking in the sun."

Angeal took the response stoically, not expecting anything particularly charitable from such a being. "Thank you, all the same."

The Pharaoh stared at him, tilting his head. He blinked. "Eat your food."

Genesis left the room, then. Angeal stared after him as he shut the doors behind him and he wondered what motivated him.

* * *

It didn't take nearly as long as the physicians expected for Angeal to recover. By mid-afternoon, he was able to get out of bed and relieve himself in the chamber pot without assistance. He grimaced at his dirty loincloth and he felt a little bad for lying on the Pharaoh's bed in it. He didn't get the chance to fret over it for long, however, because the head physician entered the room and he stopped and blinked when he saw him standing on his own.

"You should be in bed," he remonstrated.

"I'm feeling much better," assured Angeal, dutifully lowering his eyes, as was befitting a slave addressing someone of higher status. Of course, he'd forgotten all about playing the demure slave when he was staring up at Genesis earlier that morning, but who could blame him?

"I'll be the judge of that," sniffed the physician. "Sit down on the bed so that I can examine you."

Angeal sighed and did as the older man bade him. He set aside his discomfort as he was poked, prodded and tested for fever.

"The muscles are quite taut in your back," observed the healer, "but they should loosen up again soon...especially given how quickly you've recovered. I can hardly believe it! Our king could match this recovery rate."

That grabbed Angeal's attention. "Has Gen—um...the Pharaoh been injured many times in the past?"

The old man gave him a warning look. "Good recovery, young man, but I'd advise you not to slip like that again; particularly in the company of any seraph or their royal advisors. You don't have the status to speak his name, and I'm not certain why he bothered giving it to you."

"Yes, sir." He'd heard stories of commoners being put to death for daring to speak a Seraph's name in public.

The healer seemed satisfied with that, and he finished his examination. "Good teeth, strong shoulders. You're a valuable asset, Angeal. It would have been a shame to lose you."

The big man grimaced, unable to hide his distaste at being referred to as property.

The older man noticed it. "You haven't been a slave for long, have you boy?"

Angeal shook his head.

"You still have spirit. Try not to lose that, son." The physician patted his shoulder. "Well, I believe we're done, now. The bath attendants will be in shortly to collect you, now that I know you can stand."

"Bath attendants?" Angeal didn't quite like the sound of that.

"Well, yes. Our Pharaoh won't want you smelling up his bedding with your body odor. The maidens will come to take you to the bathhouse very soon, and once you've been washed, you can have your dinner."

"I...can bathe myself." Angeal began to flush at the thought of strangers washing his body. Not that he wanted to stay dirty and smelly, but at the mine he was at least afforded the right to sponge his own body off.

The old man's expression hardened. "This is a great honor, young man. The Pharaoh is sending his _own_ bath attendants to scrub all of that filth from your body. You're going to receive the royal treatment—a thing not even we physicians enjoy except when there is a banquet. Don't insult our master by refusing. I'll force a sleep potion down your throat, if I must."

Angeal raised a brow at him.

"Er...well, I'll have the guards help me force a sleep potion down your throat," revised the physician wisely. "Come now, just enjoy being pampered by lovely young women and forget about your modesty."

Angeal groaned. There was no way out of this, unless he wanted to end up beaten again for trying to escape. "Do you have a potion that will make me forget where I am?"

The old man patted his shoulder kindly. "No, but you may enjoy it more than you think."

"Not likely," muttered the big man.

* * *

He was taken to the great hall by the guards, and then he was led into a private bathing room, with advanced plumbing and heated tubs. Angeal kept his eyes on the tiled floors as a bevy of topless young women with complexions ranging from ebony to caramel surrounded him, chatting and giggling. He shut his eyes as one of them turned a couple of the taps against the wall and a spray of water came out of the sprinkler built into the stone wall.

"Please, relax," a woman said into his ear. He felt her breast bump his arm and he blushed. Where he came from, women and men bathed separately and the females most certainly didn't go around topless.

It was easier said than done. Angeal kept his eyes shut as they removed his loincloth and guided him to the spraying water. To their credit, the women didn't seem interested in evoking lust as they bathed the dirt from his body and hair. They used some kind of herbal mixture that smelled of berries and jasmine to shampoo his hair, and Angeal had to kneel for them and lean back for them to finish. He heard them make soft remarks of admiration about his body and his blush returned, spreading from his face down to his neck.

When it was finally over, he endured being towel-dried and he was given a clean garment to wear. The maidens guided him back into the great hall, where the guards took him back into custody to take him back to his master's chamber. On his way there, he spotted a man with a glorious mane of silver hair that fell all the way to the back of his calves. He was dressed in thigh-high, black boots and a black and silver loincloth, and he was chatting with a man with shoulder-length, feathered blond hair. The blond was dressed in a style of clothes that made Angeal a bit homesick, though his previous attire had been far more casual than that.

"Keep moving," ordered the guard. "Stop staring at your betters."

Angeal grimaced as he was pushed from behind. His muscles had relaxed significantly under the care of the bath maidens, but there was still quite a bit of tenderness. He fell back into step and from the corner of his eye, he saw the silver-haired man turn to look at him. That unsettling, emerald gaze stayed on him until he was out of sight.

* * *

Genesis returned with his caracal, and he released her from her leash and patted her on the side, before stroking her ear tufts just the way she liked and evoking a purr. "Good girl, Sheba. Go and rest, now."

He'd gone on the hunting venture to clear his mind and get a fresh perspective of the situation with his slave. Making a fresh kill to restock the meat stores did lend a sense of accomplishment, but after he brought his prize back and relinquished it to the butcher for processing, his problem loomed large in his mind again. Angeal. That gorgeous creature was still merely human, regardless of Genesis' growing desire to bed him.

"Who am I fooling," he muttered to himself, considering how powerful his attraction was to the slave from the first time he saw him. "This is fast becoming a _need_, not mere desire."

He immediately wished he hadn't said that when he spotted Sephiroth approaching him from the fountain in the center of the hall. The serpent king had a smug look on his angelic face, and his jewelry flashed with his movements as he approached Genesis and stopped before him.

"You seem to have a peculiar interest in that slave they brought in last evening," observed Sephiroth, "who happens to be a mortal, by the way."

Genesis refused to take the bait. "I have an interest in keeping him in good condition, if that's what you mean. Surely you've noticed his physique. He's an exceptionally strong human; worth three of his kind in terms of labor value."

Sephiroth leaned against a golden-etched column, crossing his booted ankles over one another. "Is _that_ why you've decided to share your personal chambers with him? Because of his 'labor value'?" The green jeweled eyes of the serpent torque around his throat glinted in the brazier light, eerily matching the color of his eyes.

"You're suggesting I may lower myself to your level?" Genesis asked coolly. "You forget yourself."

"And what level is that?" Sephiroth's eyes flashed.

"You are a seraph," reminded Genesis, "and a ruler. Taking a mortal consort is beneath you."

"I suppose you haven't noticed the short supply of Seraphim alternatives," countered Sephiroth dryly. "I'm certainly not interested in sexual relations with _you_."

"I assure you, the feeling is mutual," promised Genesis. "But you've gone beyond a mere sexual relationship with your human."

Sephiroth smirked. "You sound just like your father."

"There was a time when you would have agreed with his sentiments…and mine."

Sephiroth nodded, his eyes losing focus as he cast his mind back to such a time. "Yes, I would have. Things change. Perhaps one day, you'll be in a position to understand."

"Not likely." Genesis left it at that. He had blood on his hands from the antelope he'd taken down with Sheba's help, and he wanted to bathe and eat. In addition, he wanted to examine his slave's body—to see how well he was healing, of course. He smirked.

"If you'll excuse me, I should prepare myself for dinner."

"And to seduce your slave," guessed Sephiroth smugly. "Don't forget that."

Genesis shrugged. "Perhaps, but I can assure you that it won't go beyond sex, should I decide to enjoy his body tonight. Enjoy the rest of your visit, Sephiroth."

* * *

Angeal hastily got out of the cushioned revival chair at the carved ivory desk when the doors to the Pharaoh's chambers opened. He knelt before Genesis and bowed his head as the Seraph strolled in and approached him, even though the lingering pain in his back made him wince.

"You've recovered nicely," approved Genesis. "Rise."

Angeal got to his feet as bidden, and he looked Genesis in the eye for two heartbeats, before remembering the warnings he'd gotten and dropping his gaze. The Pharaoh made a tsk-ing sound.

"I'm almost disappointed. One beating is enough to render you docile."

Angeal impulsively lifted his gaze again and stared directly into those gorgeous eyes with bold intensity. He parted his lips, but he could think of nothing to say—especially when the supple lips curved into that sensual, amused smirk. Genesis' hair was damp and the embroidered loincloth around his waist was a more intricate version of the one Angeal had been given to wear, after he was bathed.

"Perhaps you aren't yet tamed."

It was difficult to tell if that was approval in the caressing voice, or something else. Frustrated by the day he'd had an the added insult of being locked in the Seraph's chambers like a pet, Angeal spoke with greater candor than usual. "I may recover faster if I can walk the grounds freely, Master." He tried not to grit his teeth as he said that last word.

"Perhaps tomorrow." Genesis reached up and combed a few wayward strands of dark hair away from Angeal's eyes. "We can't have you hurting yourself, can we? Come, our dinner will arrive soon. Sit at the table with me and have some wine. I want to know more about where you came from, and how you came to be a slave in my kingdom."

Angeal swallowed, affected by that simple touch more than he cared to admit. He dutifully followed Genesis to the carved, dark wood square table in the center of the room and when the redhead nodded expectantly at the pitcher of wine and the goblets, he obligingly poured. Genesis rewarded him with another of those alluring smiles, and he gestured politely at the throne chair opposite his own. Angeal sat down and braced himself for an awkward dining experience.

* * *

The servants brought in platters of food shortly after they sat down, and the conversation paused as the meal was set on the table along with two clean, bronze plates for them to eat off of. The servants—a man and a young woman—each bowed to Genesis as they finished setting the table with rolled, cloth napkins. They exited quickly after that, pleading with their king to call for them if he required anything else. Genesis gave them a regal nod before the doors shut again. He turned his gaze back on Angeal as he plucked a grape from the fruit tray and studied it.

"Now, where were we? Oh, that's right...Banora. That's quite a distance, Angeal."

The human was staring at the fruit in the bowl, his brows drawn down. Genesis followed his gaze and he smiled subtly and nodded. "Yes, that's an apple from the unique Banora Whites that grow in your home village." He put the grape down on his plate and he reached for the apple, picking it up to examine it. "There is no other fruit in the world quite like it. I have them shipped here, each month. Would you like to split this one with me, Angeal?"

The mortal's handsome face looked a bit strained, but he nodded. Puzzled and intrigued by his reactions, Genesis picked up the knife and he set the apple down on his plate, before cutting it neatly in half. He offered one side to his slave, who took it in his big hands and almost cradled it.

"How did you come to be a slave in my kingdom, Angeal?" pressed Genesis softly. "Were you a rebel, perhaps? I hardly believe you were convicted of any crimes. You're far too honest and noble, for that."

"I was...a farmer," answered the human softly, lowering his gaze. "We were very poor. I eventually enlisted in the local militia, after my mother died from heart failure."

"I see." Genesis wasn't sympathetic, but he was courteous. If Angeal wanted to volunteer greater details on that, he would. It wasn't important enough to dig for. "And your father?"

Angeal shook his head. "Honestly, neither of them were my biological parents."

Genesis took a moment to translate the unfamiliar word usage, mentally reviewing books he'd read. "Do you know who your birth parents were?"

"No. My parents said they didn't know, either. I was so busy concentrating on helping my family survive, I just stopped questioning it, eventually."

"Hmm. And why did you join the militia? To go to war against us?"

Angeal shook his head, and he took a slice of boar meat from the serving plate. "I had no interest in war with your people. I only wanted to protect mine."

"Fair enough." Genesis watched as he put the meat to his lips and took a bite. He admired the way his strong, white teeth tore a hunk of the roasted flesh off. He politely waited for Angeal to chew and swallow watching the squared jaw work with a kind of quiet fascination. The bath maids had groomed his facial hair as well, tidying up the side burns and shaving excess stubble away, so that only the shadow of on his chin and jaw remained. It looked good on him. Genesis sipped his wine and had a bite of his apple as he waited.

"I presume your joining the military somehow led up to your capture and subsequent enslavement, then?" Genesis asked at last, once Angeal finished swallowing his food.

Angeal lowered his gaze again. "You could say that."

Genesis raised a brow at him impatiently. "I didn't ask to play a guessing game."

The human raised his eyes again, and that smoldering look returned to them as they met Genesis' gaze. "I was defending the orchards from raiders. They were ransacking them, burning down what they didn't take. Several villagers died trying to stop them. I was eventually overwhelmed and captured. After that, I learned that they were seafaring traders, shipping the apples to foreign lands for a profit. By then, I was on my way to becoming part of their cargo. That's how I came here...Master."

Genesis wasn't quite expecting that—particularly the part about the orchards. "Direct your anger elsewhere, mortal. This was none of _my_ doing. It does explain why there's been such a shortage of dumbapples, lately, however." He frowned and tapped a lacquered fingernail against his silver goblet. "I trade legitimately with Banora. After all, I was born there."

Angeal blinked at him. "You were? When, if you don't mind my asking?"

Genesis didn't mind. "A little over twenty-four years ago."

Angeal looked even more surprised. "I...thought you would be older."

Genesis arched a brow at him. "Have a care with that, Angeal."

The big man suddenly smiled before he could stop himself, and the way it lit up his eyes and showed off his teeth stunned Genesis stupid, for a moment.

_~Minerva's breath, the man is beautiful. I'll find myself vaulting over this table to have him before we've even eaten, if he smiles like that again.~_

Angeal quickly relaxed his expression again and explained himself. "I just meant that I know Seraphs stop aging, past a certain point. I guess I just assumed all of you were in your hundreds, or older. It wasn't an insult to your looks." His gaze swept over Genesis, and those blue eyes seemed to heat up again. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Forgive me if I offended, Master."

Genesis smiled with amusement. "No. You recovered from that nicely." He selected some steamed trout from the meat tray and he placed it on his plate. "And how old are you, Angeal?"

"Twenty-five."

"Then we're of an age."

The coincidence pleased him, somehow. He pulled away a portion of his fish with his fingers and he placed the warm, seasoned meat into his mouth. Noticing that Angeal's blue gaze had fixated on his mouth, Genesis licked his fingertips delicately, before wiping them with the napkin and selecting a wedge of cheese.

"I'll have Banora investigated," he decided at length, after swallowing his bite of fish and having another sip of wine. "And I'll extend my protection to the village, to prevent further looting."

Angeal looked more wary than grateful. "You mean, you'll have your soldiers occupy it."

"If necessary," agreed Genesis without apology. "But I have no interest in interfering with the way of life, there. It would be in the village's best interest to cooperate with my people."

Angeal looked down again and took a drink from his goblet. The flames from the hanging brazier cast his handsome features in golden light, and Genesis took a moment to appreciate that as the human selected a few more morsels for his plate.

"One thing confuses me," Angeal said as he picked up a falafel. His gaze met Genesis' again. "If you were born in Banora, shouldn't I have met you, at some point? It isn't a large town."

Genesis shook his head and swallowed the sip of wine he's taken. He put the goblet down and he wiped his mouth. "Doubtful. Even if we crossed paths at some point, we both would have been too young to remember it. My family left Banora before I was five."

"And they came here to rule?" guessed Angeal.

Genesis paused, considering whether he should volunteer any further information. Perhaps later, after Angeal had shown a satisfactory measure of loyalty. "You haven't yet earned the privilege of learning more about me. Be satisfied with the pampering you've received thus far, for now. In one day, I've shown you more generosity than I show most of my court in a week."

"And you're making sure to remind me of that," muttered Angeal.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Pharaoh." Angeal busied himself with eating, avoiding his eyes.

Genesis smirked. At least the man had _some_ sense of self-preservation.

* * *

After Dinner, Angeal was faced with yet more uncertainty. Though it was admittedly a huge bed that could easily fit four grown men, it was the only bed in the room. His uncertainty changed to outright bewilderment when his beautiful, auburn-haired keeper deftly unfastened his loincloth and removed it, dropping it casually into a wicker basket by the double-doors. He removed his ornate, beaded collar next, followed by his bracelets and earrings. He put these in a coffer on the long nightstand by the wardrobe, and then he turned around.

Angeal stared openly at him as the gloriously naked seraph turned and walked back towards the platform, where his canopy bed awaited. The aqua gaze met his from across the room, and Angeal made himself stop staring at the redhead's dick, framed in a carefully groomed patch of russet hair. Genesis stopped by the bed and watched him expectantly.

"Well?" demanded the Pharaoh. "What are you waiting for, Angeal?"

_~I'm waiting for my heart to explode, apparently.~_

Utterly confused and swelling rapidly beneath his loincloth, Angeal drew the first conclusion that made sense to him. He looked over at the lounge near the desk, and he went to lay down on it.

"What are you doing?"

Angeal stopped and looked over his shoulder at the naked seraph, doing his best not to ravish him with his eyes. "Going to sleep?" Realizing the annoyed look might be due to a lack of bedtime etiquette on his part, Angeal corrected himself. "Oh, goodnight...um...Master."

Genesis clicked his tongue and he crossed the room to Angeal, his feet padding over the stone floor quietly. "Turn around to face me," he commanded.

Angeal shut his eyes and swore inwardly, before obeying him. He jumped a little when Genesis deftly unfastened his loincloth, and he impulsively covered his groin with his hands as the garment fell to the floor. Genesis pulled them away with a warning look, and the big man flushed. His cock was fully erect now, and Genesis smirked in a pleased manner as he looked down at the organ and the heavy balls beneath it.

"Well, what have we here? Hello."

Angeal compressed his lips and shut his eyes.

"Look at me."

Angeal sighed in defeat and opened his eyes, swallowing his embarrassment. He went still when he saw the soft, inviting expression on that gorgeous face.

"Are you attracted to me, Angeal?"

The big man swallowed, unused to anyone being so forward with him. "I...I..."

"_Are you_?" Genesis was grazing his chest with those gold-painted nails. The gesture should have seemed feminine, but instead, it had a sort of androgynous sensuality to it.

"Yes." Angeal clenched his jaw, meeting the seeking eyes with difficulty. As Genesis had so keenly observed at the dinner table, he was above all an honest man.

Genesis smiled faintly, and he leaned in closer. The fingertips of his right hand glided over Angeal's chest and stomach in a delightful, teasing caress. His other hand reached up to cup the back of Angeal's neck and draw him closer. His lips pressed soft, stirring kisses over his jaw, brushing back and forth over the skin as they wandered to his ear.

"Do you want me?"

Gaia help him, he did. He wanted the seraph more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything, at the moment. Speech was trapped in his throat like an animal caught in a steel trap, however. He nodded wordlessly and he slowly started to put his arms around Genesis when he felt the velvety knob at the tip of his cock gently bump against his thigh. Now the redhead was hard too, and the temptation to reach down and touch the source of that little nudge was maddening. Angeal felt the dampness of precum against his thigh and he bit back a growl of desire.

"Good," murmured Genesis into his ear. He kissed the spot just beneath it, before removing his hands from his person and stepping back. "Then you have more incentive to prove your loyalty to me."

Angeal watched with dazed eyes as Genesis turned his back on him, affording him a heavenly view of his tight ass and the pleasing lines of his back and shoulders. The redhead climbed onto the bed and he looked back at him, pausing in an outright suggestive pose that had Angeal fantasizing about rushing over there, grabbing his hips and humping him like a dog. He stared at the rosy pigment around the redhead's sphincter, then at the testicles hanging below.

"Come," instructed Genesis, and he changed his position so that he was lounging on his side, propped up on one elbow. His flushed erection pressed against the gauzy sheets as he beckoned to Angeal. "It's time to go to sleep."

Realizing he'd just been teased and that this was not a prelude to sex, Angeal swallowed his disappointment and crossed the room. As he climbed into the expansive bed with the seraph, he took some consolation in the fact that evidence suggested Genesis found him just as exciting as he found the redhead.

"Goodnight, Angeal." Genesis smirked and shut his eyes, apparently deciding nothing more needed to be said.

Angeal sighed and squirmed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He willed his erection to go away and he avoided looking at the man lying beside him as he tried to find rest.

* * *

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 2

* * *

Author's note: An explicit sexual scene has been cut from this chapter to comply with content restrictions on this site. You can read the uncensored version at Archive of our Own or Ygallery. The addresses of both are under my profile. Fanfiction net doesn't allow us to post links in stories, unfortunately.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

He recovered all too quickly. The next day, the head physician respectfully requested a private audience with Genesis in the Apothecary. When the seraph arrived, he humbly asked for him to keep Angeal available for study, for a few more days. He informed him that the average man would have likely required at least a week of bed rest, after enduring so much damage and losing that much blood. Genesis considered it, curious about Angeal's unusual rate of recovery, himself.

"What manner of study would you employ?" he asked.

"Well, we would need to test his restorative capabilities," answered the head physician. He checked the progress of a bubbling potion he was preparing on the chemistry table. "Ordinarily, a man would require some form of materia usage to regenerate damaged tissue that quickly, even with potion intervention. I examined his scars this morning, and the new ones are already as faded and thin as the old. Soon, they may all but vanish. A process like that normally takes years for minor injuries. For the injuries he sustained in his punishment, the scar tissue should be much deeper and broader."

Genesis drew a slow breath, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Yes, it's unusual," he agreed. "But you still haven't explained what would be involved in these tests you wish to perform."

The old man looked a bit uncomfortable, and he stroked his braided, graying beard and stepped behind the chemistry table, putting it between himself and Genesis. "We would need to cut him—"

"You want to mutilate his flesh?" Genesis narrowed his eyes on him.

"Only shallow cuts, my king," promised the healer, immediately bowing in supplication. "I understand your desire to keep his skin un-marred, but please be practical. If you intend to put him back to work in the mines, or as a carpenter, or any number of other duties you could assign to him, he is bound to suffer more injury and skin damage, eventually."

The reminder was a sobering one. "That's true," murmured Genesis, more to himself than to the physician.

He went to the nearest latticework window and he peered through the protective screen at the city outside. Even inside the walls of Menephera, there were dangers. The city was self-sustaining, for the most part, with an irrigation system, gardens, and even crop fields on the outskirts, where farmers cultivated food supplies. Working slaves could easily injure themselves in the cane fields, or whilst doing construction duties. Everything that a man with Angeal's powerful build was suited for had its dangers. Genesis wouldn't even contemplate making him a gladiator—though he fully intended to test his weapon skills. There was a possibility that Angeal could eventually make an exceptional addition to his royal army.

But the mere thought of anything further damaging the perfection of that gorgeous body put a sour taste in his mouth. He had no doubt Angeal wouldn't cooperate willingly with these little tests that the lead physician wanted to perform, and he knew he would have to be restrained and perhaps sedated.

"No," he decided at length. He shook his head and turned to face his physician again. "Unusual though his recovery is, I won't have you cutting him up to satisfy your curiosity. Surely his rapid recovery isn't unheard of."

The physician grimaced with disappointment, but he knew better than to argue with his Pharaoh. "No, my king. It's very uncommon, but there have been other cases documented in which a patient recovers from injury or illness with unusual speed."

"Well then, he just happens to be one of them," reasoned Genesis dismissively. "Is it your medical opinion that he's fit to resume work duties?"

The older man nodded. "Yes, Pharaoh."

Genesis nodded. "Then I'll decide where to assign him. He won't be returning to the gem mines."

* * *

After leaving the Apothecary, Genesis went to the council building, just south of his palace. There he arranged an audience with Asim, in his chambers. The royal advisor stood up from behind his desk when his master entered. Nobody sat while the Pharaoh stood, unless Genesis bade them to. Asim moved around to the other side of his desk and he knelt before the seraph, bowing his head.

"My king."

"Rise."

He did so. "How is does the slave fair today, highness?"

"Restless, but healed," answered Genesis. He examined the little pendulum clock on Asim's onyx desk, watching the clicking time peace absently. "Now I need to decide where to put him. Certainly not back at the mines. I was considering something closer to Menephera, where I can have him more closely watched."

The advisor frowned, trying to decide how to phrase his next thoughts without offending the great Pharaoh. "If I may be so bold, his highness seems quite taken with this slave," he observed carefully. "Perhaps, if you wish to keep him close, you should consider naming him as your concubine…if not your consort."

Genesis looked up from the clock at him. "You know it's long been a habit of mine to surround myself with poetry and beautiful things. That includes beautiful mortals, as well. Don't make the error of assuming I'm smitten, Asim."

The advisor bowed his head respectfully, lowering his green-gold eyes, "Of course. I only meant to offer a suggestion; not to offend."

The glow faded from Genesis' eyes. "At any rate, I do have an interest in keeping him fit and healthy. I'm aware that a man with his skills and strength would better serve as a laborer, yet I don't want a repeat event like the one that occurred at the mines."

He walked over to the big, flowering desert lotus plant standing in a pot by one of the open windows, and he bent over to smell the fragrance of the pink blossom. "Can you advise me on which taskmasters can be trusted not to mark his flesh or deprive him of necessities, unless there is no choice?"

"I could name some of the more competent ones and assign the one of your choice as his personal keeper, once you've decided on a task for him," agreed Asim. "But I might suggest some personal mark, Pharaoh? Something that clearly denotes him as your personal investment, so there will be no temptation for any overseer to punish him unduly?"

"Hmm." Genesis considered the idea. "I dislike the thought of tattooing him, even if it's with my symbol. Branding is out of the question. Perhaps a collar would do."

"I was about to suggest that very thing, Highness." Asim nodded.

Genesis smiled. "Thank you, Asim. Feel free to take a concubine of your choice to your bed, tonight."

Asim bowed. "My Pharaoh is most generous."

* * *

Angeal stood up with embarrassing eagerness when the Pharaoh returned to his chambers. He'd been cooped up in here since being bathed yesterday, and he'd been forced to endure another physical as soon as Genesis left to take care of his duties. He didn't think it could be possible to forget how beautiful the seraph was in a span of a few hours, but seeing him walk in with a combination of masculine and feline grace, Angeal was forced to revise that supposition.

"Have you eaten?" Genesis asked. His riveting gaze caressed Angeal's body leisurely.

"Yes." Angeal returned the visual caress without thinking, and he quickly reminded himself of his station when Genesis lifted an auburn brow. He lowered his gaze again. "My Pharaoh."

"Good."

Genesis approached, and Angeal could smell his exotic scent before he made it three steps. He impulsively raised his eyes from the floor to look at him, compelled by that fragrance. The noon light filtering in through the windows highlighted the Pharaoh's hair, and Angeal noticed for the first time that there were hints of golden highlights in it. The blend of red, gold and brown made him think of autumn leaves. Before he even realized what he was doing, Angeal reached out to touch that hair, stroking his fingertips over the shiny, soft locks.

Genesis parted his lips, but Angeal spoke in a soft murmur before the seraph could speak. "The leaves on the trees back home used to turn these colors, during the fall. Not the Banora Whites, of course. The others, though…we used to play in the leaf piles as children. The trees here will never change colors, though."

"No," agreed Genesis, "unless they wither and die." He didn't offer remonstration or push him away.

Angeal looked into his blue-green eyes again, noticing that they were lined with kohl today, as was popular trend in this region. The exotic makeup only seemed to emphasize the beauty of those eyes. "That's what your hair reminds me of: turning leaves, or a sunset. It's…beautiful."

Was he imagining the subtle heightening of color in those sculpted cheeks? Angeal couldn't be sure, but he was sorely tempted to lean in and kiss the glossed, parted lips.

"I had you marked as a simple laborer, or a soldier," whispered Genesis. "I wasn't expecting to find the heart of a poet, hidden beneath all that muscle."

Angeal saw his opportunity, then. He wasn't sure what possessed him to make such a reckless move, but it was too tempting to resist. He reached out with the other hand and he slid the fingers of both through Genesis' hair, closing the distance between their mouths. When the Pharaoh's eyes fluttered shut, he knew he had his consent.

Angeal's lips stopped an inch away from Genesis'. "Oh, wait. I have to prove my loyalty to you, first."

The seraph's eyes opened wide for a moment as Angeal abruptly pulled his hands away and stepped back. He blinked up at the big man, looking utterly insulted. Angeal dared a smirk at him. "Your words, not mine. I'm just remembering my place, Master."

* * *

Genesis couldn't believe the audacity of the slave.

_~Why, you insolent, smug, gorgeous, sexy…~_

He lost his train of thought as he watched that smirk curve Angeal's mouth. He had to remind himself to be offended, and even then, he began to smile in spite of himself.

"Well played," he complimented, caught between admiration and frustration. "A dangerous game, however. Are you sure you have the wit to play it, Angeal?"

The human held his gaze unflinchingly. "Big doesn't necessarily mean stupid, Pharaoh." He finally lowered his gaze respectfully.

The redhead controlled his smile with difficulty. "I suppose not. Fortunately for you, I'm in a good mood today. Come with me." He turned and began to walk to the doors, expecting his slave to follow without question.

"Where are we going?"

Genesis stopped and sighed. He was so used to servants that were either too cowed, too awed or too in love with him to question anything he asked of them. He turned to look at the exasperating man and he allowed himself another visual grope of his strong body.

"I'm taking you to be fitted for a collar, if you must know. You belong to _me_, Angeal. I want my subjects to know that, beyond all doubt."

The look he got in reaction to that statement made him feel a little better about the dirty trick the brunet had played on him, earlier. "No branding iron?" Angeal said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone.

"Branding is barbaric," answered Genesis, "and a tattoo would permanently mark that exceptional body. I think a collar is the most civilized approach, don't you?"

The big man sighed, his defined jaw tensing with frustration. "Of course. Being collared like a dog is _very_ civilized. My dignity has been saved."

"Mmm, sarcasm," approved Genesis with a smirk. "You're learning."

Angeal nodded at the obsidian and gold bookshelf in the corner of the room. "I've had some time to read and learn new things," he said.

Genesis hid another smile. The more time he spent with this mortal, the more he learned about him and he found each little surprise more interesting than the last. There was more to Angeal than his masculine appeal and strength. The smile became a frown as Genesis realized that perhaps his advisor was right—he _was_ taken with Angeal—and he was becoming more so with each moment he spent with him. It was a dangerous path to tread.

"Come," he insisted again. "I want this finished within the hour, so that I can assign you to your new duties."

Angeal didn't move. Genesis narrowed his eyes at him. "Must I use force, Angeal?"

"Maybe," shrugged the human. He crossed powerful arms over his broad chest and he stared Genesis down. "I'm sorry, Pharaoh, but there's only so much I can take. This goes beyond pride. I'll perform the duties you assign to me and as long as I don't see helpless people being abused, I won't disobey the taskmasters. I refuse to be collared like an animal, though."

Genesis clenched his teeth in agitation. Ordinarily, he would deal harshly with a slave that refused his order, and he had no compunctions over making it a lesson in pain. Angeal, however, couldn't be brought to heel that way and he had no interest in doing physical damage to him. Perhaps the human had sensed that in his actions and responses, and he was now testing him like a petulant child.

Genesis clicked his tongue and he touched a gem on his left bracelet. "I suppose a lesson is in order, then." Who said it had to involve blood, bruises or pain? "I don't give second warnings, Angeal."

The "gem" on his bracelet lit up, and Genesis spread his fingers and aimed the sleep spell at his slave.

For a moment, the big lummox just stood there looking handsome and defiant…and Genesis wondered if he's managed to resist the spell. Then, Angeal put a hand to his forehead and frowned. "What did you…" A yawn broke free. "…Do?"

"Goodnight, sweet prince," murmured Genesis as the heavy, muscular body crashed to the floor.

* * *

When Angeal awoke again, he was secured to an examination table of sorts, and he frowned in confusion. The table seemed to be composed of movable parts, with separate supports for the arms, legs and torso. He was firmly clamped down by the wrists, arms, ankles, thighs, waist and neck. He tried to lift his head off the cushion it was resting on, but the vise around his neck prevented it. He could smell the exotic, spiced scent that he'd begun to associate with his "master", and he turned his head to the left when he heard that dulcet voice speaking to him from that direction.

"In case you're wondering, you're in the surgical chambers."

Angeal's eyes widened a little with that announcement, and he stare at the seraph as Genesis stepped out of the shadows. "You're going to mummify me alive?"

He'd heard enough horror stories about how the process was done for it to be enough to provoke some quiet desperation in him. He didn't want to die badly, with his organs pulled out while he writhed helplessly. He looked at Genesis intensely, hoping that the being had at least enough honor to listen to him.

"My intransigence didn't earn this. You know this is wrong."

"Oh, relax," sighed Genesis. He approached the bound human and he gazed him up and down. "As I said, these are the surgical chambers; not the embalming chambers. You have the terminology confused. I didn't bring you here to hollow you out. In fact…"

He suddenly dipped his head and Angeal gave a start as his moist, warm tongue traced his navel. Genesis straightened up and looked at him. "I intend to fill you up."

He turned the crank beside the contraption and its prisoner, and Angeal grunted as his bound legs were forced apart as the rests beneath them separated. An entirely different nightmare sprang to mind, and if his hands had been free, he would have used them to cover his genitals. Examination tables like this were also commonly used for neutering.

"You intend to make me a eunuch."

Genesis rolled his eyes. "Goddess, you are naïve…and morbid. What would be the purpose of me relieving you of your manhood, when I intend to enjoy it, some day? Your balls will remain intact, Angeal…at least until I've had my fill of you."

Angeal winced when the Pharaoh began to unfasten his loincloth. "Then, what are you going to do?"

Genesis got the top of the garment undone, and he pulled it down to expose Angeal's groin. He offered the human a sensual, conniving smile and he traced the lines of his pelvis with his fingernails. "Teach you a lesson you won't soon forget."

* * *

It began with the tickling. Genesis plucked one of his own feathers from his wing and he commenced with torturing Angeal with it, provoking unwilling snickers and making him squirm. When the big man finally broke and begged him to stop before he wet himself, Genesis moved on. He removed his loincloth, fondled him to hardness and put a cock ring on him, and then he pleasured him with his hands, lips and tongue until Angeal was desperate for release…but the Pharaoh didn't allow it. The sweet torture went on and on, until Genesis had enough.

He left Angeal there, bound to the examination table, erect and mired in sexual need. An hour later, Angeal was released from his bonds and allowed a cool shower, to relieve his condition. He suffered another hard-on immediately afterwards, however, when Genesis insisted on rubbing his body down with protective ointment, to prevent sunburn.

"What say you to the collar now, my defiant one?" asked the Pharaoh as he finished applying the ointment and handed over a fresh loincloth to him. The garment bore Genesis' avian symbol, but it was deep blue with silver embroidery, rather than red and gold like the last one.

"Yes," stated Genesis when Angeal studied the garment before putting it on. "I had that one made specifically for you, in colors that suit you better. Do you like it?"

There was really only one right answer to that question. Angeal nodded, keeping his gaze lowered. "Yes, Master. Thank you."

"And your response to my earlier question?" pressed the seraph.

Angeal sighed. "I have no choice, do I?"

"None," agreed the seraph, "but things will be so much more pleasant, if you'll just cooperate."

The big man nodded, giving up the fight.

* * *

A short while later, Angeal was fitted for a new collar at the royal blacksmith's. Genesis chose silver as the metal, after testing it against Angeal's skin to be sure he wouldn't have a reaction. He chose a design that was simple, but elegant. The collar would be inlayed with lapis lazuli, to match Angeal's eyes. It would take a couple of hours for the collar to be completed, and he took Angeal on a small tour of the city while the item was being crafted.

"I haven't yet decided where to assign you," admitted the Pharaoh as they rode in a chariot together. The vehicle was pulled by two solid white chocobos. Genesis had his mask on again, of course, concealing the sculpted beauty of his features from the commoners and slaves. People knelt in supplication as they passed them on the streets, calling out their praise to the Pharaoh.

Genesis acknowledged them with a regal nod as he drove the chariot through the city. "Tell me, Angeal, if you had a say in it, what duties would you prefer?"

"Military," answered the big man readily. His blue gaze settled on Genesis, looking at him through the eyeholes of his mask. "But I understand I need to prove my loyalty to you, before I can ask for such a thing."

Genesis nodded. "Yes, you do." He studied him thoughtfully, for a moment. "You really are a patient sort, aren't you? Another man might be stewing in resentment now, after receiving the punishment you did."

Angeal shrugged, grimacing slightly at the reminder. "It wouldn't do me any good, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't." Genesis approved of his attitude, finding his stoicism attractive. "Perhaps one day, I'll grant your wish and give you a place in my royal guard. Until then, you'll be placed in a labor position. You were once a farmer, so perhaps you should be in the fields."

Angeal nodded. "If you think that's best, Master."

"Well, no…I think a physique like yours would be better served working the smithy, or doing construction."

Angeal frowned at him. "Forgive me, Pharaoh, but why did you mention the fields, then?"

"To see your reaction." Genesis looked ahead and he steered the chocobos to turn down a side street. "Make no mistake, Angeal, I want my subjects to do well in their tasks. In order to ensure this, it seems logical to select work that they can take some pride in, or at least something they don't despise. This is why I asked you what you would choose, if you had the chance."

"I like working with my hands," answered the big man. "Blacksmithing or construction would be fine by me."

Genesis nodded, pleased to have reached an agreement with him. "We'll start you on construction, then. The temple of Minerva is currently undergoing restoration, to repair some of the erosion that occurred over the years before my reign. Once that job is complete, I may allow you to try your hand at blacksmithing, for a while."

That seems to please the big man. A hint of a smile curved his lips, and Genesis congratulated himself on tempering punishment with reward. Positive reinforcement was just as important as negative, when training a slave.

* * *

Angeal held still while Genesis placed the collar around his throat. Their was something oddly erotic about it, and the flash of desire in those riveting eyes told him Genesis felt it, too. The redhead murmured something beneath his breath, and he touched the collar. Angeal felt the metal grow warm as red energy briefly suffused the metal. He gave his master a puzzled look, and Genesis smiled and combed his fingers through his dark hair.

"Now the collar is stronger than steel," murmured the Pharaoh, "and with my blessing enchanting it, I'm the only one who can remove it."

Angeal understood the underlying meaning of that, and his jaw tightened.

* * *

After returning to the palace, Genesis sent for his royal advisor and together, he and Asim chose a taskmaster to assign Angeal to and they made arrangements to get him started on the reconstruction of the temple. Sephiroth came up beside him as Genesis watched Angeal get clamped in irons and loaded into a cart for transport to the appropriate slave pens.

"How smitten with him are you?" murmured the serpent king. "Let's count the ways, shall we?"

Genesis gave the other seraph a sidelong glare. "Keep to your fantasies, Sephiroth. If I were as 'smitten' as you presume, he would have a place in my palace as my personal concubine."

"It's only a matter of time," insisted Sephiroth with a cool smirk. "You'll eventually break, as I did. You'll find excuses to watch him, and then you'll find other excuses to touch him. Eventually, you'll find yourself making excuses to bed him. Every glance and every touch brings you closer to breaking your little vow never to take a mortal lover."

"You're delusional," snorted Genesis. "And don't you have somewhere else to be? I've already agreed to support your campaign against ShinRa, if they move in on your territory and another war begins."

"Hmm, yes. I suppose there's no reason for Lazard and I to linger. I'll contact our airship and we'll be on our way." The sly look didn't leave Sephiroth's emerald-green eyes. "I'll leave you to your denial, and wait for the moment when I can say 'I told you so'." Sephiroth bowed cordially to him. "Until next time, brother. Thank you for the hospitality. You'll have to visit my kingdom again sometime, so that I may return the favor."

"Next harvest," promised Genesis, relaxing now that the bothersome seraph was leaving.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and mentally communicated with the pilot of his airship. The distance from Menephera to the Woodlands was too far for him to fly on his own, let alone carry his human consort.

"I still need to journey to Gongaga, before returning home," he sighed absently. "Zackary hasn't responded to my calls, and he needs to know about ShinRa's latest activity, as well."

"He's likely getting intoxicated with his subjects," mused Genesis. "Or caught up in orgies. I still think you could send him in to deal with the humans. By the way, why didn't you just contact me through the communication sphere?"

"As I said; I can't reach Zackary," answered Sephiroth. "I needed to travel to this continent, anyway, so I saw no harm in stopping off here first to enjoy the hospitality of your court and discussing the matter personally."

Genesis snorted. "I can hardly blame you, considering the 'court' in Gongaga consists of giggling, inebriated dancing girls and a campfire."

Sephiroth smirked. "Zackary does like to keep it simple. At least he has a lodge."

"Yes, which is little more than an elaborate barn. I've been there, on more than one occasion. I think we should consider revising Seraphim etiquette so that yearly visits between kingdoms aren't an expectation, any longer."

Lazard stepped out of the temple and he came up beside his king, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. "You sent for me, Highness?"

"Yes," answered Sephiroth, stroking the humans' back briefly. "We've overstayed our welcome, and we still need an audience with the wolf lord."

Lazard inclined his head. "Of course." He gave Genesis a graceful, sweeping bow. "Thank you for your hospitality, great Pharaoh. I look forward to serving you in King Sephiroth's court, when you choose to visit."

Genesis had to give him credit; Lazard had more grace than most humans he'd met. He gave him a dignified nod of recognition. "Until then."

* * *

_Later that night, in Gongaga:_

"Naw, naw, that's not how it's done. Here, give it over and I'll show you." The wolf lord held his hand out for the bong, winking mischievously at the young man who was trying and failing to have his first hit from it.

Cloud handed it over, watching him with curious, sapphire blue eyes. "Sorry, I've never done this before."

Zack paused, considering the blond with interest. "Hmm…are you sure you want to try this, then? No pressure, Blondie."

Cloud shrugged and lowered his gaze, while the people sitting around the central bonfire chuckled.

"Hey, knock it off," Zack warned, casting a blue-violet look around at his subjects. "Nobody at this fire ever has to do anything they don't want to, and that includes newcomers."

He gave his newest acquisition a friendly smile. "Honest, Cloud. The greens are harmless, but if you don't want to get high, you don't have to."

Cloud shrugged uncertainly. He'd left Nibelheim because his only friend there got taken away by ShinRa, to ensure the mayor—her father's—cooperation. He'd made the journey to Gongaga because he heard stories about the immortal wolf lord that ruled there, and he thought maybe he could petition his help to get the girl safely back. He wasn't expecting the seraph to be so friendly…or so handsome. The girls surrounding Zack evidently shared his attraction to him, and the casual way he put an arm around the redhead beside him suggested he had sexual relations with some of them.

"Cloud," the wolf lord said again, tilting his head. "Don't be afraid to say 'no', kid."

"I…guess I'll try it," answered the blond, curious in spite of himself. He'd never heard of smoking chocobo greens to get high, before. Zackary hadn't given him any reason to mistrust him. He tried to avoid staring at the other man's bare, toned chest. Zack wore denim pants but he'd taken his shirt off when he sat down at the fire. "Just show me how."

The wolf lord grinned, making his new Cloud's heart flutter. He took the brand offered to him by one of the other guys at the fire and he used it to light the weed in the little bowl. He sucked on the bong, inhaling the potent smoke. He passed the bong over to a blond girl and he motioned Cloud to come closer. When the young man obeyed, Zack cupped be back of his spiky, fluffy head and drew his mouth to his. Cloud's eyes opened wide and his lips parted impulsively. The brunet blew the smoke into his mouth and Cloud inhaled it automatically. Zack followed up with a brief lick, swiping his tongue over the blond's parted lips before drawing away.

"How is it?" questioned the seraph as Cloud coughed.

The blond nodded, trying to catch his breath. "Okay," he lied. "I don't feel anything, though."

"Just give it a minute," suggested the wolf lord with a wink. "It'll kick in soon.

Cloud inconspicuously shifted, so that his position wouldn't give away the effect that the unexpected contact had on his body. He'd only been there for a week, but he'd already developed a crush on Zackary and as he tried to work up the courage to tell him why he'd really joined his kingdom, his attraction only grew. He didn't even care if he had to share him with woman. If the seraph ever invited him to share his bed, Cloud knew he wouldn't say no…especially after that little non-kiss he'd just experienced.

One of the royal guards approached the bonfire and he squatted down beside Zackary to murmur something into his ear. The wolf lord rolled his eyes and combed his fingers through his sooty black spikes, pulling his bangs out of his eyes. "Damn…his timing stinks."

Cloud almost asked what he was talking about, but then a tall man with what seemed like _miles_ of shiny, silver hair came strolling into the center of town, wearing nothing but thigh-high boots, a black and silver loincloth and serpent jewelry. The cobra mask concealing his upper face and the sweeping black wing folded close to his body gave him away as a seraph, and all of the humans around the campfire quickly prostrated themselves on the ground.

"Bow," whispered the redheaded girl at Zackary's other side urgently. "That's the serpent king! He's not like our lord Zackary!"

Looking at the cold, serpentine green eyes behind the mask, Cloud thought it would be a very good idea to take her advice. As he mimicked the other citizens around him, he saw a young man with feathered blond locks and glasses join the serpent king's side. He had an elegant, noble look to him and he was dressed in expensive looking clothing.

"This is exactly what I expected to find," said the silver-haired seraph as he looked around at the groveling humans. His gaze settled on the wolf lord. "Are your mental facilities intact enough for an audience, Zackary, or do I need to wait for the buzz to wear off?"

"Oh, relax," snapped the wolf lord, his good mood obviously spoiled. "Sit down. Have a drink. Unclench."

"I would prefer we conduct our discussion in your lodge," insisted the serpent king. "Away from the ears of common subjects."

Zackary shrugged. "Fine. You could have called, first."

"I tried," answered the serpent king. "There was no response. Sometimes I wonder why you even have a communication orb."

"Because you guys won't use phones," answered Zackary, shrugging. "Get with the times, will you?"

"Our magic is superior to human technology," argued the other seraph, "and I see no reason to use it when it isn't necessary."

"Yeah, but I'll bet you enjoy that human-made plumbing system in your temple, pumping water into your pools and baths," Zack observed with a smirk.

Behind the mask, the serpent king's eyes narrowed. "I won't discuss this with you in the company of commoners."

Zackary shrugged again and he got to his feet with a grunt. "Don't get your loincloth in a bunch, I'm coming." He paused and he looked down at Cloud thoughtfully. To the blond's confusion, he offered him a hand up. "Come on, Cloud."

He took the seraph's hand and got to his feet, wobbling a little as the weed he'd smoked began to take effect.

"And who is this?" questioned the serpent king.

"My advisor, Cloud Strife."

"He is?" Lazard asked with interest.

"I am?" repeated Cloud, baffled.

"Sure, why not? Come on, fluffy stuff. You're about to get a lesson in Seraphim politics."

The look of disapproval stamped on the serpent king's sculpted face left little doubt of his thoughts on the abrupt promotion. "This is no game, Zackary. Genesis and I leave you to your hobbies for the most part, but you seem to be forgetting who you are. You dress like a mortal, you talk like one…you don't even bother masking your features from your followers."

"Okay," Zackary sighed. He held up a finger. "One: I _like_ the way they dress. Butt-floss doesn't work for me."

He held up a second finger. "Two: I like the way they talk, too. They don't sound stiff and snooty. I'm a laid-back kind of guy, and their speech patterns suit me a hell of a lot better than that formal bullshit you and the Pharaoh use."

Finally, he held up a third finger. "And three: why should I hide my face from my people? They're my family. I know their faces, so they should know mine too. Oh, and what happened to you not talking about this stuff in front of them, huh?"

The serpent king made an annoyed sound in his throat, and his blond companion spoke up in an elegant, cultured voice. "May I suggest we continue this conversation in the lodge?"

Zack looked at him and shrugged. "Sure, Lazard. Cloud, let's go."

He grabbed Cloud's hand and the blond stumbled after him as he started walking. Casting a nervous look at the silver-haired seraph following them, Cloud decided silence was the best policy, here.

* * *

_Menephera, a few days later:_

Genesis kept an eye on Angeal's progress, as the days went by. Word had gotten out that he'd beheaded the last taskmaster to whip the muscular Banoran, and the new silver, lapis-inlaid collar around Angeal's throat had Genesis' symbols etched into it, adding further incentive not to mistreat him. He worked hard, and though he initially intended to keep his distance from him, Genesis visited the slave pens at the start of each day and he applied protective sunblock ointment to the man's entire body. Each application was sweet torture to him.

He resisted the temptation to order the slave brought to his bedchambers to satisfy the nagging lust he felt. Genesis had an enormous sense of pride, and he refused to give in and prove Sephiroth right…even though he'd enjoyed sexual encounters with other mortals in the past. It was only physical, though. He had actually grown to _like_ Angeal, in the short time he'd known him. Because of this, Genesis hesitated to act on his desire.

_~Never love them,~_ he reminded himself sternly as he watched the progress of the temple repairs. If he couldn't bed him without falling in love, then he shouldn't do it at all. He watched the play of muscles in Angeal's broad back as the big man lifted one of the smaller stone blocks and carried it up the steps. His skin glistened with sweat under the hot afternoon sun, and it emphasized the ripples of muscle in a way that had Genesis in danger of pitching a tent in his loincloth.

A yell of alarm from one of the workers distracted Genesis from his lustful thoughts. He looked up to see that one of the ropes had snapped on the pulley system of one of the huge blocks. Slaves and workers scrambled out of the way as the block began to fall down the stairs, but one of the slaves tripped and fell. Angeal saw it and to Genesis' horror, the big man put himself between the smaller, dusky-skinned man and the massive stone block.

"You'll be _crushed_, you fool!" Genesis shouted, immediately manifesting his wing. He took to the air and he prepared to unleash his magic to shatter the block, before it could flatten his gorgeous new favorite.

He never got the chance. Angeal rushed up to meet the block and he intercepted it, throwing all of his body weight against it. To the amazement of everyone watching, the block grinded to a halt and stayed there, held in place by the big, straining Banoran. Genesis stopped short and hovered in place, his eyes wide behind his golden avian mask. Even _he_ would have been hard-put to hold a block of that size and density in place, like that.

"Quick! Secure it again!" Angeal shouted in a strained voice. Even the taskmasters rushed to comply with his demand.

"What _are_ you?" whispered the Pharaoh, perplexed. He certainly was no common mortal, with strength like that. Even with his build, his strength should not be this great. It begged the question of how his captors managed to overpower him to bring him here, in the first place.

"Angeal, I don't think you've been completely honest with me," murmured Genesis, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at the slave.

* * *

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 3

* * *

Author's note: This chapter has been edited to comply with FFnet's censorship on mature content, and a rather extensive love scene has been cut from this version. If you wish to read the full, uncut chapter, you can find it under my user profiles at Archive of our own and Ygallery, both of which are linked under my profile page, here.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

Shortly after the incident with the building block, Angeal was informed that the Pharaoh wanted to speak privately with him. He accepted it when they secured his wrists and ankles in irons and he boarded the taskmaster's chariot to be transported to the palace. He couldn't imagine what Genesis wanted with him now, but so far, the seraph had demonstrated a maddening lack of predictability. He just hoped he wasn't in for another tickle session.

When they arrived at the foot of the palace, the taskmaster stepped down first and he removed the chains binding Angeal's ankle restraints together, so that he could climb the stairs without tripping. He gritted his teeth with annoyance as the taskmaster prodded him in the small of his back with the handle of his whip, urging him to move. Angeal started up the steps, and he admired the weapons of the royal guards as he passed them on the way. Each had a pole arm as their royal weapon, but they also had various secondary weapons secured at their hips or backs, depending on what each man or woman specialized in. Some had swords, dirks or axes, while others had flails, maces or whips.

"Some day," muttered the big man softly, lowering his gaze. He finished traversing the steps and he shut his eyes for a moment when he entered the great hall of the palace, trying to adjust his vision.

"Move, slave," prompted the taskmaster.

Angeal grimaced at the second prod against his back, and he half-turned to give the man a hard, warning look. The taskmaster reached for his whip uncertainly, his dark eyes watching Angeal with wary respect, despite his lesser status. There was a hint of fear there, as well. Feeling like he'd taken at least a little of his dignity back, Angeal turned back around and walked.

As his sandaled feet traveled the tiled surface of the elaborate hall, he looked at his surroundings and he almost stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that the Pharaoh himself occupied the long, rectangular pool in the center of it. The maidens that had bathed Angeal on his second day in the palace were attending him, and he had his head tilted back as they rinsed his auburn hair out. Not a one of them had a stitch of clothing on.

The big man tripped on a tile and he damned-near pitched face-first into the pool. He caught himself and blushed to the roots of his hair when Genesis raised his head and opened his eyes to stare at him. For several heartbeats, the seraph's gaze remained fixated and unreadable on him, and Angeal remembered his place when his taskmaster nudged the back of his knees with a sandal and muttered a reminder to him.

Angeal sank to his knees and bowed his head. "You sent for me, my Pharaoh."

Genesis got out of the underwater seat in the shallow pool, standing up in the water. It only came up to the top of his thighs once standing, so as soon as he straightened up, his dripping body was exposed from the groin up. Angeal found it nearly impossible to avoid staring as the water droplets rolled over that light golden skin, glistening like little gems under the warm light of the braziers.

"Leave us," Genesis commanded, looking around at his subjects. The maidens immediately climbed out of the pool and collected their sparse garments, scattered around the edges of it. They exited the main hall through one of the back corridors, presumably heading for their own living chambers, somewhere within the palace. The guards obligingly left as well—as did Angeal's taskmaster.

When they were alone in the expansive reception hall, Genesis nodded at Angeal. "Take off your garments and join me."

Angeal knew there was no other option but to obey, and he looked over his shoulder at the open palace doors. Genesis seemed to sense his ambiguity, and his voice softened to a more gentle tone.

"No one will disturb us," he promised. "The guards won't allow it. Now come. Join me."

Angeal tried his very best to put aside his modesty, reminding himself that nudity wasn't nearly as taboo to these people as it was in his homelands. He unlaced his sandals and removed his loincloth, and he climbed gingerly into the pool, wincing as the manacles still fastened around his ankles clinked together. He deliberately sank down into the water, finding even less coverage than Genesis, given his greater height.

The Pharaoh smirked at him, his wet, slicked-back hair sparkling in the dim light. "What are you doing all the way over there? You look like a crocodile, lying in wait for its next meal. Stand up and come to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

With a sigh, Angeal slowly straightened up and waded over to the other side of the pool to his waiting master. He tried not to fixate on the seraph's nudity—especially when that great, black wing came out and dipped lazily into the water. It stirred the surface of it and much like a common bird's wing, it didn't retain dampness when it came back out. The water sparkled on the raven feathers and Angeal almost reached out to touch them, curious and awed.

"What do you ask of me, Master?" he murmured. His dialect was slowly improving, adjusting to the more formal, elegant way of speaking in this region. He still thought he sounded clumsy and coarse, compared to most of the natives.

Genesis reached for a sea sponge sitting at the edge of the pool, left behind by one of the water maidens. "Come closer. You're filthy."

Angeal did as he was bade, and he tried to think of unpleasant things as the seraph lathered up the sponge with some sort of herbal soap and began to lather his body with it. "You were very, very lucky today, Angeal. The size and weight of that construction block could have easily crushed you as it fell. Logically, it probably _should_ have."

"I know." Angeal swallowed, finding it hard to concentrate under the other man's touch. The wing began to gently fan the air, cooling his body further. Water droplets scattered over him and Angeal sighed with pleasure as Genesis' strong hands kneaded his shoulders and arms, gliding over the slippery skin with sensual care. By all rights, he should be the one giving this treatment to the seraph, but he wasn't about to voice the thought aloud.

"Care to offer some explanation as to why it didn't?" Genesis' voice took on a cool edge, and his ministrations ceased.

Angeal opened his eyes to find that aqua gaze fixated on him. Genesis didn't look pleased. "What do you want me to say?"

"You could tell me who and what you _really_ are, for a start," answered Genesis.

"I've told you," insisted Angeal. "I've told you everything about me that's of any importance at all."

Genesis sighed, and his hands glided down over Angeal's chest. "I would like to believe that." Suddenly, he pinched both of the big man's nipples, hard enough to make him bark a protest and jerk away from him. "And yet here I am, feeling as though you haven't given me the entire story. I'm an intuitive creature, Angeal. I can smell lies and you stink of them."

"I'm telling you the truth!" Angeal hastily slapped his hands over his nipples when it looked like the redhead might reach out to give them another pinch. "Why would I try to hide anything?"

"There are a multitude of reasons why that may be," answered Genesis, "but I'd like to hear it from you first, before I draw conclusions of my own."

Angeal sighed. "I swear to you, I've told you everything _I_ know about my origins. Yes, I'm stronger than average. I've spent most of my life trying not to make that too obvious, because people start asking questions I can't answer...like the ones you're asking now."

The Pharaoh stared wordlessly at him, his eyes searching Angeal's. The Banoran held his gaze stoically, offering no resistance and mentally opening himself up to whatever powers Genesis might be using to look into his heart. Genesis reached up and combed his damp fingers through Angeal's dark, sweat-dampened hair.

"You truly don't know the reason behind your strength? Your foster parents never gave you any information at all?"

Angeal shook his head, holding Genesis' gaze. "Pharaoh, if I had an answer for you, I would give it. Maybe my adrenaline pumps stronger than other men's, under duress. Maybe I'm just abnormal. I don't know the answer, but I promise, I'm not trying to deceive you."

How _could_ he? Every time Genesis looked at him, he felt like the world was shifting on its axis. Already an honest person by nature, Angeal really couldn't imagine lying to him. Genesis watched him for another few heartbeats, and he finally dropped his hands and reached for a vial of some sort of sweet-smelling lather.

"Sit down and dip your head back into the water," he commanded.

Angeal obeyed, sensing that he'd been forgiven of the imagined slight. He opened his eyes and he looked up at the seraph as Genesis commanded him to keep his head back, once he'd dampened it. Genesis poured some of the contents of the vial into his palms and he rubbed his hands together to work up the later, before he began applying it to Angeal's wet hair. The big man's eyes fluttered shut again with pleasure as the fingertips massaged his scalp, and he began to forget about his nudity.

"You're in danger of relaxing, my defiant one," warned Genesis in a dryly teasing tone. His manicured nails scrubbed Angeal's scalp, loosening dirt and sand caught in it.

"Feels good," mumbled Angeal, lulled by the slosh of the cool water against his skin and the massage. He opened his eyes again to see Genesis' face closing the distance, and he parted his lips when the seraph kissed him.

"You're so confusing," Angeal said when Genesis broke the kiss. "A minute ago, you had me wondering if I might end up in the stocks. Now you're washing my hair and kissing me."

Genesis smirked. "Mortals aren't meant to understand the heart of a seraph. Dip your head back into the water now, Angeal."

He arched his back compliantly and he shut his eyes again as Genesis scrubbed his hair beneath the water, rinsing out the shampoo and dirt. "Now," said the Pharaoh in a satisfied tone, "stand up again, so that I can bathe the rest of your body in full."

Angeal straightened up and his modesty returned full-swing as he emerged from the concealment of the water. Genesis smirked at him, his eyes roving over him with open appreciation.

"You blush in the most interesting places, Angeal." He reached up to trace the flushed shell of the brunet's right ear, and then he ran a wet fingertip down his neck to his clavicle. "I can't remember the last time any of my subjects were so...shy."

"I was raised in a different environment," excused Angeal softly. He shivered as the finger glided down and circled a nipple, making a tingle of pleasure race through him. "You aren't going to pinch that, are you?"

The Pharaoh chuckled. "Not this time." He reached for the sea sponge and the body soap again. "Hold your arms up."

Angeal obeyed and he held still as his master began to lather his body, revisiting the areas he'd started on before as he scrubbed the places he'd missed. He told him to turn around and he got his backside once Angeal did so. Genesis dipped the sponge into the water and rinsed away the soap and the dirt, before he began to rinse off the suds from his slave's body. He had Angeal turn around to face him again and he smiled as his gaze drifted downward.

"We can't neglect the manhood, when bathing the dirt and sweat from your body." He soaped the sponge up again, his gaze holding Angeal's. "Can we?"

* * *

Genesis enjoyed every moment of bathing his subject. He loved how Angeal looked both lustful and wary. He adored the way his breath caught as he soaped and fondled his groin.

"You look concerned," murmured Genesis, when Angeal's breath started quickening with pleasure.

"I don't want you to leave me in another situation of unrelieved tension."

Genesis chose to overlook the lack of respectful titles included in the comment. He understood that a man in the heat of sexual pleasure couldn't be expected to have perfect etiquette. He squeezed a little more firmly and he whispered a demand to the taller man.

"Kiss me, Angeal."

The human lowered his mouth to Genesis' and complied without question, his tongue lancing in to explore the Seraph's willing mouth with passionate ardor. He evidently no longer cared whether anyone happened to look into the great hall and see them. That was good. Genesis was a sensual creature, and he had no desire to hide his sexuality within his own palace. He barely checked a moan of need as Angeal's tongue thrust firmly against his in a suggestive manner.

It occurred to Genesis that he was getting too heavily invested in this encounter, and that was a dangerous thing. He wanted him, but he didn't want to get close to him. He wanted to push him away, but he wanted to keep him near. He didn't want to think about him, but he went out each morning to bathe and prepare him for the day's work.

Angeal was more pampered as a slave than most royal vassals were.

The realization struck a chord of warning in Genesis' heart, and he started to pull away from his companion. Angeal put his arms around him and held him close, preventing it. His mouth was ravishing Genesis' now, his breath heavy and uneven. The assertive action stirred the Pharaoh's lust, and the moan finally freeing itself from the cage he's put it in. The work-roughened hands slid down Genesis' wet, naked body to cup his ass and squeeze it, pulling him up tight against Angeal's hard body.

_~Goddess, help me. Can I enjoy him and still remain detached?~_

In such a short time, he'd become attached to this man in a way he'd never gotten attached to any human. Every warning he'd ever gotten whilst growing up came back to haunt him, even as he rubbed against the tall, powerful body and wrapped his wing around it. Angeal released his left butt cheek to slip a hand between their bodies and grip Genesis' erection, and the redhead was lost. He would have been utterly shocked and mortified with himself if he'd had the sense to listen to the desperate, wanton way he said his slave's name against his lips, his accent heavier with need.

"_Anjiru!_"

* * *

Hearing his name gasped like that in the exotic, purring dialect was all the confirmation that Angeal needed. This was the first time he'd been allowed to touch the Pharaoh so intimately, and after a week of being bathed, rubbed down with oils, fondled and teased without reciprocation, he had no intention of giving Genesis the chance to pull away. His pulse was pounding in his veins, his body ached with unsatisfied desire, and he was determined to get some satisfaction.

Completely forgetting his status, the supernatural physiology of the being in his arms and the fact that Genesis was his owner, Angeal let his instincts take over. He fondled him eagerly, striving to bring him pleasure. He resumed kissing the seraph, sliding his tongue along his and easing it back out, only to push it in again.

He tempered aggression with patience, trying to be assertive, without being disrespectful. It was a delicate balance and the wrong mood could bring the encounter to a crashing end, and send him to the stocks to be whipped. He wished his wrists were free of the iron manacles. Though there were presently no chains attached to them, the heavy metal cuffs got in the way a bit and cut down on his wrist mobility. He improvised, though, turning his arm to help him stroke Genesis off.

"I want you," Angeal murmured huskily, between kisses. "And it may be presumptuous of me, but I think you want me too."

Genesis was breathing just as heavily as Angeal now, and his wing remained wrapped around the big man. "It's only flesh," he murmured. "That's all we can have, between us. If this happens, you must remember your place."

Angeal understood, all too well. He knew this gorgeous creature would never see him as an equal, and he knew he would probably live out the rest of his days as his slave and suffer through the pain of watching Genesis take younger, more virile men to his bed as he aged. Still, having him even once would be an experience he could cherish. He didn't understand why he felt so much, so fast, for someone he could never truly have. Regardless, Angeal was stuck in the now, and what he wanted more than anything right now was to satisfy his lust for his Pharaoh. He hoped that if he had him at least once, his need would be slaked and he could stop obsessing over him.

"I'll remember that," promised Angeal huskily. "I just want to be with you." He was too excited to care anymore if anyone saw them. It felt like he'd been waiting for this his whole life.

Genesis rocked into Angeal's touch, humming with pleasure. He shut his eyes and licked his lips in a seductive manner, before opening them again and gazing at the human. The water reflected the light of the torches and braziers, and it cast golden patterns over Genesis' body.

"In that case, some preparation is in order." He looked down at and he smirked. "More than average, I imagine."

Genesis stopped fondling him, and he reached down to pull the big man's hand off of his, as well. For a horrifying moment, Angeal thought that he was about to be rejected again…that this was just another one of Genesis' cock-teasing games. The flash of desire in those eyes as the redhead took both his hands in his told a different story, however.

"Come to my chambers," urged the seraph. "I know you prefer privacy."

Angeal gamely followed him, using the built-in seat in the pool as a step to get out. Remembering his discarded loincloth, he paused and he started to go and retrieve it. Genesis pulled him to him and kissed him hard, stopping him.

"Leave it," murmured the Pharaoh. "The palace servants will collect it and have it washed and ready for you by morning. I want you now, Angeal. I can't wait."

Angeal didn't object. His sentiments matched Genesis', at least in the matter of impatience.

* * *

Angeal demonstrated a sex drive on par with Genesis'. He came three times before he finally softened inside of him, and after falling asleep kissing and caressing him, he awoke a couple of hours later hard and ready for more. He somehow convinced Genesis to take it on his hands and knees, and then he introduced him to the wonders of spooning. It made Genesis realize how boring and flat his previous sexual encounters had been, and that was why he'd taken to pleasuring himself, rather than seeking out bed companions lately.

When they were both finally worn out, Genesis lay exhausted on top of Angeal, with his head resting against his broad chest and his mind deep in thought. He traced patterns over his slumbering mortal's tight-muscled abdomen, replaying the glorious lovemaking over again in his imagination. It was ironic that such a modest, reserved man was the one to show him that there was no shame in surrender, or in taking a more vulnerable position, with the right partner. He wondered if Angeal would willingly bottom for him if instructed to, but Genesis was in no hurry to find out. He'd tried it both ways and he preferred being fucked to doing the fucking, even if he was on top. This arrangement was satisfactory to him, for now.

Genesis again thought on Angeal's stamina in bed, and like his strength, it was far beyond average. He believed he was telling the truth about being adopted, but he didn't believe he was a common mortal, even if Angeal believed it whole-heartedly. There was _something_ different about him, setting him apart from other humans.

_~Perhaps he isn't entirely human, after all.~_

The thought gave him pause and he lifted his head off the big man's chest to look at his slumbering features. Being the bookworm that he was, Genesis was quite learned on the world's history and legends. Seraphim weren't the only humanoid species to dwindle and all but vanish in time. There was once another species, cousins to the humans, but ageless like the Seraphim and powerful. They were called Cetra. They could hear the voice of the goddess, even more clearly than Seraphim. Jenova—mother of the Seraphim—attempted to merge with the Cetra, to learn their secrets so that her children might benefit from their knowledge and powers.

According to legend, the result of Jenova's attempts was an illness that wiped out nearly the entire Cetra race. That chain of events incidentally led to the destruction of the Seraphim. Minerva, the guardian goddess of Gaia, was angered by the destruction of her chosen ones. She cursed Jenova and her children, splitting the Seraphim into two halves and scattering them across the globe. Jenova sealed herself away, never to be seen or heard from again. Her children wandered Gaia, each bearing only one wing instead of two, seeking their missing counterparts.

It was never conclusive that absolutely _all_ of the Cetra died out. Because they so closely resembled humans in appearance, voice and mannerisms, it was entirely possible that there were still survivors of their race out there, hidden amongst the mortal population like diamonds in the rough.

Genesis traced his sleeping companion's features with his fingertips, and he whispered his thoughts into the darkness. "Could you be one of them?"

Deciding he couldn't sleep with so many possibilities swirling around in his mind, Genesis got out of the bed, careful not to jostle it and wake Angeal. He grimaced when his skin rubbed against a crusty spot on the sheets and he made a mental note to have the palace servants bring fresh bedding, in the morning. He heard a scratch at his door as he was getting ready to cross the bedchambers to his bookshelves, and he changed directions. He opened his doors a crack, trying not to let the hinges squeak too much. He gave Sheba a scratch on the head and bade her come in, when he found her waiting on the other side of the door.

The large, lynx-like golden hunting cat loped into the chamber and approached the bed curiously. "Don't wake him," cautioned Genesis, shutting and barring the doors again.

She flicked her tufted ears curiously, understanding his tone, if not his words. She hopped up onto the bed gracefully and she curled up on the left side, at the foot of it. Angeal murmured in his sleep and rolled over, but he didn't wake. Genesis went to his bookshelf and he searched the contents before selecting a book on the Ancients of Gaia. He went to his desk and he lit the small candle lantern sitting there, so that he would have light to read by.

* * *

When Angeal woke up the next morning, he was slightly alarmed to find the Pharaoh's large hunting cat curled up in the bed with him in the manner of a common house cat. The city had plenty of the latter running around freely, fed and cared for by the residents in exchange for keeping the pest population down. A caracal was a far cry from a tabby, though. He looked down the length of the bed at the slumbering creature, and he felt the subtle vibrations of her quiet purring. Trusting she was content enough not to bite off his toe if he moved his leg away from her, Angeal sat up slowly.

"She won't harm you," said Genesis' voice from across the chamber.

Angeal looked up to see him relaxing on the lounge, with a book in his hand. A bowl of fruit sat before him on the coffee table, he was dressed in a shendyt—a wrap-around skirt commonly worn by the men in this region, when they weren't wearing loincloths. It was white, with gold embroidery and red gems sewn into the hem. A pair of jeweled sandals sat on the floor by his lounge, and his hair was slightly damp. He smelled like he'd recently bathed and applied essential oils, and he'd lined his eyes with kohl again. He wore his beaded collar and bracelets this morning, as well as some gold rings with precious stones set into them.

_~How does anyone look that stunning, this early in the morning?~_

The caracal opened one eye to give Angeal a lazy stare, and then she closed it, seemingly unconcerned. Angeal got out of the bed and his modesty returned. He covered his groin and looked around uncomfortably, well aware that he still smelled like a mixture of sex, sweat and coconut oil.

Genesis glanced up from his book, his eyes sweeping over him with lazy appreciation before he nodded at the chest at the foot of the bed. "You'll find your loincloth waiting for you there, freshly washed and dried. Have some fruit and when you've eaten your fill, I'll have you escorted to the bathhouse to be bathed and oiled for the day."

"Couldn't I just bathe myself?"

Genesis gave him a look of displeasure, before dropping his eyes to the book in his hand. "Are we forgetting the discussion from last evening, slave?"

Angeal groaned inwardly. Of course, he hadn't forgotten. He'd just entertained the foolish hope that Genesis might treat him a bit differently in private, after what they'd shared. The way he'd surrendered his body to him and cried his name tricked Angeal into forgetting his agreement that it was only an arrangement of the flesh, and nothing more.

"Forgive me." Angeal lowered his eyes. "I won't forget again."

"Good," answered Genesis pleasantly. "Put on that wrap by your loincloth, for now. There's no point in wearing the former before you've been bathed."

Angeal picked up the plain linen wrap and he awkwardly put it on and belted it. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it covered and supported his junk, once he figured out how it worked. He went to the table to select some fruit, and he almost smiled at the sight of the ripe, polished dumbapple crowning the center of it. He glanced at Genesis to see a smirk adorning his lips, and he guessed he'd been watching him from beneath lowered lashes to see his reaction.

"Thank you," Angeal murmured humbly. "For the apple."

"Who said it was for you?" Genesis belied his response with a quick little smile at him. "But I suppose you can have it. Consider it a reward for an impressive performance. Enjoy."

Angeal took the apple and bit into it, doing his best to armor his heart. Perhaps in the future, he would enjoy further dalliances with the Pharaoh…but they could never be equals.

"Angeal?"

The big man swallowed his bite of apple and looked at his master inquisitively. Genesis was reading again, his tawny body backlit by the sunlight coming in through the latticed window behind him. "Yes, Pharaoh?"

"Do you ever hear voices?"

Angeal frowned. "You mean in my head?"

Genesis lowered the book and peered over the top of it with annoyance. "No, in your ass."

The sarcastic response nearly made him chuckle, and he cleared his throat to hide it. "No, I can't say that I ever do—unless my own thoughts count."

"Hmm." Genesis returned his attention to his book, leaving Angeal wondering why he would ask him such a question.

* * *

Genesis had no time to enjoy another romp with Angeal, much as he would have liked to. He had his water maidens take care of bathing him and applying the protective lotion to his skin, because he didn't trust himself not to toss his duties aside and spend the day having sex with him. He had matters of the court to attend, such as settling disputes between citizens, entertaining the royal council and hearing agriculture, profit and angler reports. These things were important, to keep order in his kingdom and ensure that food, housing and sanitation were plentiful.

He recalled all too vividly the time when the plague struck, wiping out half the population of Menephera. He was still a boy at the time, and his parents had eventually gotten it back under control, but it was a harsh reminder that disease could and did strike without warning, if the conditions were ripe for it. There hadn't been an outbreak like that again since, but that was because Genesis was meticulous about ensuring the water supply was clean, the rodent population was down and the city and surrounding communities were free of most pollution.

In addition to his royal affairs, he decided it was time to begin training and honing Angeal's combat skills. Genesis had no doubt he already had some, but if a man with his strength could get overwhelmed and captured by common raiders, then it stood to reason his weapon skills were lacking. Angeal seemed pleased to learn of this new development when Genesis informed him, but his primary duties would remain with construction, until his fighting abilities were measured.

Reminding himself to stay detached as he watched the guards secure chains to his favorite slave's manacles and lead him off, Genesis went to his throne, called to Sheba, and prepared for a long day and night of politics, followed by a banquet, music and dancing.

* * *

While Genesis was suffering through the headache of royal duties, Zackary was recovering from a more fun version of the same thing. It was nearly noon when he woke up, and it took him a moment to gather his bearings. He was in the master suite of his lodge, lying in the pile of pillows and blankets in the depressed center of the big room that served as his bedding. He was dressed in a pair of sleep pants, and he had two people cuddled up against him. To his left was Clarice, his little flautist. She was lying on his extended, black wing and sleeping soundly, fully dressed in a bodice and broom skirt. Her wooden flute was clutched in her hands, resting on her chest. She must have fallen asleep playing it for him.

He turned his head to the right to find a familiar pretty boy with fluffy, spiked blond hair lying beside him. Cloud was out like a light and a glance down at his sweet, compact frame provoked Zack to raise his straight black brows with surprise.

"What are you doing naked, kid?"

He took a moment to admire the way his new "advisor" was put together. Though he was a small guy, Cloud was built well. His body was toned and strong, but not stocky. His skin was pale like Zack's and though there were some small scars here and there, it was otherwise smooth and flawless as porcelain. Zack boldly ran a hand over the lightly snoring blond's ribcage and hip, before giving him a little pat on his smooth rump and grinning when he stirred and mumbled.

"Mmmuuh?" Those big, blue eyes opened sleepily and gazed into Zack's. The wolf lord winked at him and gave him a quick little smooch on the lips.

"Rise and shine, buttercup. It's getting late and I've got to make arrangements to go and visit my 'brother'."

Cloud lifted his head and looked around in confusion. "Whu?"

"I'll bet you're wondering what you're doing here," guessed Zack as the blond propped himself on an elbow and rubbed his sleepy eyes. "I'm trying to remember that, too." His gaze roved Cloud's body again and he grinned at him.

Cloud looked down on impulse when he noticed the glance, and upon realizing that he was buck-naked, he cussed and snatched up some blanket to cover himself with. Now only visible from the nose up, and blushing madly, he peeked up at Zack.

"Wh-what happened?"

Zack frowned, trying to recall the events of the evening. "Hmm, well, Solomon brought some really good greens from the north, in exchange for some medicine. We all got high around the bonfire and after that, it gets a little fuzzy."

He nudged the young woman lying on his wing. "Hey, sweetheart…I hate to wake you up, but I need my wing back."

Clarice came awake with a little moan of protest, and she put a hand to her ebony forehead and rubbed it with a grimace. "Oh, ouch….how much did we smoke last night?"

"Probably more than we should have," Zack said with a grin. He sat up when she rolled off of his wing and he helped her to sit up, too. He nodded at Cloud—who was still hiding under the blanket. "Maybe you can shed some light on this. I woke up with a plucked chocobo curled up against me."

"I'm _not_ a chocobo," protested Cloud's muffled voice.

"You're just about as cute as one," Zack said. "Wait…you're cuter. So anyhow, Clarice, do you remember what we were doing in here, before we passed out?"

The dark-skinned woman combed tangled, curly locks of black hair out of her eyes with her fingers and she grinned at poor Cloud. "You dared him to take his clothes off, Zack."

"Oh?" Zack's brows went up. He looked at Cloud again with a smirk. "And you did it?" One thing Zack had learned in the short time he'd known Cloud was that he was a stubborn little cuss, and he generally wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do—even for Zack.

Cloud looked down beneath the blanket. "Apparently," he muttered in answer.

Zack chuckled in delight. "I don't know how I did it, but I've got to try that again sometime."

"I'm never smoking greens again," Cloud announced, ducking under the covers completely.

Zack gave the lump that was the blond a gentle pat. "Come on, Clarice. Let's step out and give him a chance to put some clothes on, before he burrows in so deep we can't get him out again."

Zack got to his feet with a grunt, and he offered his hand to the flautist. She took it with a sigh and she protested at the pain in her head when she rose. Zack winced in sympathy, feeling an ache in his own skull.

"I think we'll stick to the usual stuff, for the rest of the week." Zack steadied the woman with his wing and led her out of the master suite with him. "Go ahead and get dressed, Cloud. We'll have something to eat and get cleaned up, and then we'll head to the Temple of Ancients for an audience with the serpent king."

* * *

After having some lunch and showering in a blessedly private stall, Cloud joined Zack at the north edge of town, where there was a clearing for his airship and some steam powered ground vehicles. Apparently, all three of the seraph monarchs had human transport like this to travel between their kingdoms with their subjects.

"You sure visit each other a lot," Cloud observed as he stepped over a fallen branch in the path.

Zack casually picked the branch up and he chucked it like a stick into the forest. He shrugged. "Well, this visit is about seeing if he can find out any useful info about your friend Tifa," explained Zack.

Cloud stopped in his tracks and stared at him. "You…you'll help me?"

Zack stopped too, and he gave him one of those confident, sexy smiles that made Cloud's heart flutter. "Sure. Or at least, I'm going to _try_ to. I know what it's like to have a girl you care about kept from you, Cloud."

"Oh." The blond's heart plummeted. He'd actually begun to hope that Zack had no love interest; because despite his initial impression of the seraph, he found out he never actually slept with any of his subjects. He flirted shamelessly, he kissed and hugged now and then, but he apparently hadn't taken any sexual partners for over a year.

"Tifa's just a friend," Cloud said when Zack cocked his head in that wolfish, inquisitive manner of his.

"Yeah? Well, she still must mean a lot to you." Zack combed aside a few hanging strands of black hair, and he squinted his blue-violet eyes as he looked up at the canopy. "I can't promise anything, but I'm going to do what I can to try and reunite you with her."

"Zackary—"

"Zack." The wolf lord grinned at him. "Unless we're at court, it's always 'Zack'."

"Zack," corrected Cloud with a little smile. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, kiddo," Zack said. "But if I manage to help you get your friend from ShinRa, I'm sure I'll think of some way you can thank me." He winked. "But seriously…you traveled all the way here from Nibelheim, all by your lonesome. That kind of courage doesn't come easy, and you managed to pass through Gen's kingdom and Cosmo Canyon without ending up as buzzard bait. I admire guts like that, Cloud."

"Well, I wouldn't be alive now, if it weren't for you," reminded the blond.

Zack shrugged again. "Maybe, but the fact that you made it all the way here tells me this girl means a lot to you, friend or otherwise. I want to help you get her back."

Cloud lowered his eyes and fidgeted. "So…this girl you mentioned. Can I ask who she is?"

Zack hesitated for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Cloud apologized in a rush. "It's none of my business."

"No, no," Zack soothed, giving him a slightly rueful smile. "It's okay. I just get a little frustrated when I think about it. She's a water maiden at Seph's temple. I got attached to her fast, just like I did with you. Sephiroth won't let me have her, though."

"Couldn't you…you know…exchange one of your servants for her?"

Zack chuckled, shaking his head. "The problem with that is I don't _have_ servants. I have a family. I can't trade any of my people, and I don't think Seph would accept it even if I tried. He's convinced this girl has some kind of special abilities and he won't let her go until he finds out if he's wrong or right."

"What kind of special abilities?" Cloud wondered, frowning.

"Beats me," sighed Zack. "But she's really good with plants. Unless he thinks a green thumb is something special, I've got no idea."

Cloud nodded, and he stuck his hands into his pants. "Does she love you, too?"

"I think so," answered Zack. "Gaia, I _hope_ so, or I'm just making a dick of myself. I've got to confess, part of the reason I'm so eager to get going is so I can see her again."

"I guess I can't blame you." Cloud resisted the urge to sigh. On the plus side, Zack said he was attached to him. That didn't change the fact that he was obviously in love with this water maiden. Cloud thought of the different titles and animal associations with the seraphs, and he decided to ask Zack about it, before they reached the airship.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Cloud. What is it?" Zack shooed a flying insect away from his face.

"Why are you called the 'wolf lord'? For that matter, why is Sephiroth the 'serpent king'? I understand why Genesis is the Pharaoh, but the rest confuses me, a little."

Zack stopped walking again, and he turned to regard Cloud with measuring, amethyst eyes. "You really want to know?

Cloud nodded.

Zack cast a look up and down the path to be sure nobody was coming. He took one of Cloud's hands in his and he led him away from the main path, into the forest. Cloud glanced nervously at the trees and when he heard something shuffle deeper in the undergrowth, he reached for his sword.

"Where are we going?"

Zack stopped when they were out of immediate sight of the main road, and he looked at Cloud with an unusually solemn expression. "Okay, I'm trusting you to keep this under your hat. Most people know we Seraphim use animal references for our totem spirits, but for me and Sephiroth, it goes deeper than that."

Cloud stared at him uncertainly. If he didn't already know Zack had a wing, he would have pegged him as a normal—though very attractive—young man. He wore a pair of cargo pants similar to Cloud's, a black singlet and a scabbard strapped to his back with his sword. The only thing unusual looking about him when his wing was retracted was that glow in his gorgeous eyes.

"Um…okay. I promise I'll keep it to myself."

"And you can't freak out, either." Zack looked utterly serious.

"I won't," promised Cloud—though he was beginning to wonder if his companion was about to turn into a monster or something.

Zack nodded, holding his gaze. "Okay. I've only shown this to a few people I really trust. Are you ready?"

Cloud shrugged. "Sure."

Zack looked like he was still a little worried that he might "freak out" over whatever he was about to show him, but he nodded and shut his eyes. "Here goes."

Cloud half expected Zack to summon a pack of wolves to his side, given his title. He most certainly didn't expect the man to actually _turn into a wolf_ himself. Zack's form altered before his eyes. He shapeshifted from a tall, handsome young man into an _enormous_ black wolf. The creature stood level with Cloud's eyes and it stared back at him expectantly.

"W-wolf," sputtered the blond. "Big…big wolf. Zack…tell me that's you in there." He impulsively reached for his sword as the animal walked over to him. He made himself hold still and resisted the urge to attack as the sooty muzzle closed the distance.

The wolf licked him on the cheek.

Cloud relaxed his hold on the hilt of his sword, staring with huge blue eyes at the wolf. "That's…really _you_, isn't it?"

The wolf sat back on its haunches and grinned at him, wagging his bushy tail. The eyes were the same amethyst color as Zack's.

"Oh…okay." Cloud felt a little dizzy. "Could you…turn back into Zack, now?"

The animal stood up and its form immediately shifted back into the human form Cloud had come to know. Zack watched him with faint concern. "You okay there, chocobo?"

"Yeah," Cloud said uncertainly. "I'm just…I wasn't expecting that. So does this mean Sephiroth can turn into…um…"

"A big snake? Yeah…sort of."

Cloud frowned at that, but he was a little afraid to ask what that meant. "Then what about Genesis? His symbol is a bird."

"Phoenix," corrected Zack, "which is kind of like a falcon or a hawk, but no, he can't change forms. Gen's thing is his natural ability to set shit on fire, and he's really good with magic. That's why the phoenix is his spirit animal."

Cloud's brow crinkled. "So you and Sephiroth can change shapes, but he can't?"

"Every seraph is different," Zack explained. He clapped Cloud on the arm in a friendly manner. "Come on, our ride is waiting. Just remember what I told you about the social rules, okay?"

Still a little shaken, Cloud nodded and followed him.

* * *

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 4

* * *

Summary: Gaia is divided into five distinct, ruling kingdoms. Two are under human control, and the other three are ruled by Seraphim. Treated as gods by their followers, the Seraphim rank highest in power and military might, and their power base continues to expand into the human kingdoms. The Pharaoh of the West finds himself drawn to one of his slaves, brought to him from the southern islands of Mideel.

**_Author's note: _**_The original content of this chapter has been modified to comply with FFnet's censorship policies. Both a graphic het scene and a graphic yaoi scene have been removed from this version. For the full, uncensored version, go to Archive of our own. The link is posted under my user profile, here._

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

Cloud was very careful not to offend anyone, when they arrived at the Temple of Ancients. The guards watching over the bridge bowed to Zack and stepped aside to let his group pass. Cloud and two of Zack's other subjects followed him across one of the bridges leading into the Ziggurat. They walked into the entrance, and Cloud was utterly confused by what he saw when he looked around. They were in what appeared to be a huge reception chamber of sorts, with gilded walls and a high-arching ceiling. There were hieroglyphs etched into the walls, depicting things that Cloud only partially understood. There were long, rectangular fire pits lining the walls, the flames burning bright to display the scrolling pictorials decorating the walls.

"Watch your step," advised Zack as Cloud walked towards one of the etched drawings with his mouth parted in wonder.

The blond glanced down at his companion's advisory, and he gave a start. There were snakes slithering all over the floor. "Shit," he blurted, impulsively reaching for the sword strapped to his back.

Zack stopped him, reaching out to grab his wrist before he could finish drawing the weapon. The raven-haired seraph shook his head, his amethyst gaze serious. "Don't, Cloud. The temple serpents are under Sephiroth's protection. Don't worry though; they aren't poisonous. These are all pythons and garden snakes…pretty harmless to people, but they usually scare off curious intruders before the temple guards have to."

Cloud reluctantly let the sword settle back into its scabbard, and he unconsciously rubbed up against Zack as he backed away from a big, curious serpent that started to coil around his ankle. "And they just…stay here?"

Zack nodded. "Like I said; we've all got some kind of animal affinity."

"It's okay, Cloud," assured a young brunet man in the group, "these things have never bitten anyone when we've come with Zack to visit."

"I…see." Cloud resisted a shudder. He wasn't particularly afraid of snakes, but to be literally surrounded by hundreds of them was a bit unsettling. "So, where's the rest of this place? This looks like the only room."

"Yeah, you've got to have a special 'key' to get into the hidden city underneath," Zack explained, and he reached into the pouch secured at his belt to produce a flat, round stone medallion, with symbols of snakes entwined together etched into it. He approached the raised dais in the center of the chamber, and Cloud noticed that there was a depression in the carved stone monolith in the middle. Zack placed the stone into a depression, and the object lit up with a soft glow.

Cloud gasped as the stone floor trembled beneath his feet, and he backed into the woman accompanying them as the glow spread out to encompass the entire area surrounding the monolith.

"Easy," soothed Clarice, grabbing his arm to steady him. She smiled at Cloud when she saw how round his topaz eyes were. "It's okay. We're about to be teleported to the city below."

"T-teleported?" Where Cloud was from, magic was scarce and he was instinctively mistrustful of it.

Zack removed the keystone and upon seeing how wary the blond was, he approached him and he put both hands on Cloud's shoulders and gave them a gentle, comforting squeeze. "Relax, kiddo. I promise, it's harmless. I wouldn't have brought you if I thought otherwise."

"Hey, what about _us_?" Demanded Clarice with a mock frown. "Are we just fodder?"

Zack laughed and he reached out to give the ebony-skinned musician a brief, one-armed hug. "You know better. I'm just trying to reassure the skittish Chocobo, here."

"I'm not a—" Cloud began to argue.

A white light filled his vision, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a stone-paved street. "—Chocobo," he finished in a subdued tone, completely losing interest in the argument as he looked around at the stacked, stone structures making up the whole of the hidden city. "W-wow. How is this…Zack, I can still see the sky! I don't understand."

Zack shrugged. "Well, sure. When we say 'below', we don't mean the city is literally underground. The ziggurat itself is basically a transport chamber to the hidden city and the temple inside."

"So…where exactly _are_ we?" Pressed Cloud, golden brows furrowed.

"Welcome to the jungle, Cloud," Zack said with a grin as the blond openly stared. "Well, a different jungle, anyhow. This city is phased out of regular time and space, so no mortals can find it without a keystone and knowledge of how it works. That's the best explanation I can give you, really. I barely get it myself, and I'm not that good at explaining how dimensional barriers work."

Cloud decided he might not understand it even if Zack did try to give a more lengthy explanation. He saw people coming and going in the streets, dressed in a style of clothing he wasn't familiar with. Most of the women wore long skirts of some soft, supple material with either gauzy, flowing tops or halters composed of strung together beads and feathers. Other women appeared to be wearing full wraps that draped around their bodies like togas. The men were dressed in a similar fashion, though some were bare-chested with a combo of a loincloth and some kind of leather leggings. All of these garments were universally decorated with feathers and beads.

Cloud turned to regard the seraph, his gaze traveling Zack's body. "Nobody in your village dresses like this. You all dress more like people from where I come from."

Zack shrugged. "Seph and Gen hate that, but I like these kinds of threads." He looked down at his combination of loose cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt. "They're comfortable, and I don't have to worry about accidentally flashing anyone when I do stuff."

He nodded at the two guards that approached; both wearing embroidered loincloths and tall boots. They each held feathered spears and as primitive as their weapons seemed, Cloud saw the glowing orbs decorating their hammered silver bracelets, and more of the orbs were set into their weapons.

"Is that materia?" whispered the blond to Zack, wondering if he could get into trouble for asking too many questions.

Zack nodded. "Yeah. All royal guards are equipped with it. The human kingdoms might have that steam and cannon technology, but Seraphim are the only ones that can naturally harness the Lifestream to make spell materia."

"What if humans invents some way to do that themselves?" asked Cloud.

"Then Seph and Gen will be super pissed," predicted Zack with a smirk. "Shh, remember what I told you. Once we reach the temple, keep quiet unless spoken to."

Cloud nodded in concurrence. He didn't want to embarrass Zack or cause a scene. He looked at the Seraph and he thought it was a shame for him to hide his handsome features behind that silver and black wolf mask. It was apparently expected of him here, though. The Serpent King and the Pharaoh kept to the traditions of their forbearers, only allowing each other or those who had earned special favor to view their facial features in full.

"Lord Zackary," greeted the guard on the left, and they both knelt before him in respect, bowing their heads. "Our king awaits you in the temple. Please, allow us to take you and your party to him for an audience."

"Of course," Zack answered with a nod.

Cloud looked at him again, blinking. He somehow seemed more…regal. He found it a little disconcerting. Zack looked neither right nor left as the procession followed the guards. Citizens stopped what they were doing and knelt in homage to the wolf lord as he and his troupe passed by, and Cloud thought he detected a very subtle, brief grimace of distaste on Zack's lips. It was gone in a flash, but the blond smiled. No matter how he acted for the sake of propriety, Zack wasn't exactly a "monarch" at heart. That was a comfort.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at the harbor city of Junon:_

"We should get out of here, while we still can."

The engineer paused in his work, turning off the blowtorch to regard his fellow technician with a frown of disapproval. A smudge of oil darkened part of his left cheek, above the line of carefully groomed facial hair lining his jaw and chin.

"I'll pretend I didn't just hear you say that, Phillips."

The other man cringed a little. Though the mechanized goggles concealed Reeve's eyes from view, he could sense the glare he was getting from him. "I'm just saying we're in over our heads, here. If Rufus _or_ the Serpent King discover what we've really been doing here—"

"We'll be horribly executed," finished Reeve for him, "probably in various ways that result in wearing our bowels on the outside and our testicles as earrings. Your point being?"

"Er…what you just said," insisted the man called 'Phillips'. He gestured at the huge weapon they were working on, looking up at the massive dome concealing it from view from the outside. "This is a brilliant piece of work Mr. Tuesti, but if they learn about this, well, I'm not in a hurry to wear my balls on my ears or my intestines on the outside. I'm sure the other workers feel the same way."

Reeve looked around at said workers, who were listening with expressions of discomfort and uncertainty on their faces. "Do you all feel this way, then? Flathead? Drillbit? What about you, Wrench?"

Accustomed to being named after tools, the guys looked at each other and the one called Drillbit stepped forward. He scratched his short-trimmed, brown hair uncomfortably and he shrugged. "Sir, I think Phillips is right. We might be getting in over our heads. How do you know that demon you work for is going to—"

Reeve grabbed the young man around the throat with one leather-gloved hand, and he shoved him against the wall roughly. He tugged his goggles up with his other hand, propping them on his forehead as he glared at the hapless worker.

"You'll use a respectful tone when you mention him," he advised the squirming, choking man, "at least in front of me. Mr. Valentine has been very gracious to us, and I'm obligated to protect this project—to the full extent of my abilities. Don't make me do that, son. You wouldn't enjoy the experience."

Drillbit nodded convulsively. "Y-yes sir," he coughed as the engineer loosened his hold on his throat to hear his response. "I…understand."

Reeve let go of him, leaving him to stagger and clutch at his bruised neck. He took his work gloves off and combed his fingers through rich brown hair that fell just past his shoulders. He looked around at his crew again, his attractive features softening a bit.

"I know you're all getting nervous," he said, his voice retaining the stern quality of authority, even as it softened, "and you would have to be morons to participate in this project with no fear or doubts. I understand that. You have to trust me, though. We've lived under the boot of ShinRa and the Seraphim for too long. This could mark the beginning of a revolution that will grant humanity freedom from both kinds of tyranny. You knew what you were signing up for, when I recruited you."

"Yes sir," they agreed in unison at the reminder.

"And you should know that I'm not asking you to risk a thing that I'm not willing to risk, myself," insisted the engineer.

"We know," agreed Flathead. "Sorry for doubting, sir."

"You questioned," corrected Reeve with a smirk, "and that's all right. A man who questions nothing is highly suspect, in my eyes. Now Wrench, go and tighten that valve over there. The rest of you, get back to what you were doing before. I've got to report in."

They didn't dare argue with him.

* * *

Moments later, Reeve unlocked a reinforced doorway down the hall, and it opened with a hydraulic hiss. He frowned at the grinding sound and he made a mental note to oil it when he was finished with his report. He stepped into the secured corridor and he walked its length until he reached the room at the end. He produced another key from the ring he kept in the pocket of his trenchcoat, and he unlocked the door.

"I hope this isn't a bad time?" he called out as he cracked the door open enough to be heard.

"Enter," bade a low, resonant voice.

Reeve pushed the door open further and he walked into the dimly lit room. The elegant, cherry-wood matching furniture and scarlet drapes made it feel like he was walking into someone's bedroom. The man dressed in black and red at the big, intricate desk glanced up at him as he shut the door behind him, and Reeve took a moment to take in the picture he made. Valentine's eyes were concealed as usual behind a pair of oval, red-shaded lenses. His long, wavy black hair was bound in a ponytail, with a few strands left loose to fall around his fine-structured, pale face.

"What do you have for me today, Reeve?"

Ignoring the inner puns that sprang to mind at that question, Reeve approached the desk and he took a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of it. "The boys are doing a good job," he assured him. "The cannon should be ready within a month, but we'll definitely need to test it."

Vincent nodded, and he got out of his chair to approach the stained glass window set into the wall behind his desk. The thick heels of his thigh-high boots tapped on the wooden floor with his steps, and he examined the curtains before peering through the dyed glass to the outside.

"That's good news. There haven't been any further accidents?"

Reeve got out of his chair as well and he joined him by the window. "Not since the last one. Clamp should be ready to return to work by the weekend."

Vincent glanced sidelong at him, and Reeve caught a glimpse of the amber glow of his left eye. "You've never explained it to me; why do you refer to your crewmembers as tools?"

"Because it's easier for me to remember than given names." Reeve shrugged. "And they _are_ essentially tools. Well, people too, but you understand my meaning."

The raven-haired man smirked briefly. "Yes, I understand what you mean. I sometimes question your logic, but so long as it helps you perform to the highest degree, it's none of my business."

"You're filling my head with thoughts that don't belong there," warned Reeve, "with this talk of 'performing to the highest degree'."

"Don't they?" Vincent looked at him full-on, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

"Not when I'm on the clock," insisted Reeve. "You know how my mind drifts, and yet here you are, using terms that put unprofessional thoughts in my head."

"How careless of me." There was an undertone of amusement in his response.

Reeve sighed, reaching out with great daring. Vincent didn't move as he pinched the spectacles between his thumb and forefinger and lifted them to rest on his head. Now gazing into heterochromatic eyes of ruby and amber, Reeve caressed Vincent's face, before dropping a hand on his right shoulder.

"You could make an appearance now and then, you know. It might bolster the workers to move faster."

Vincent lowered his gaze, the dark lashes sweeping down to conceal the glow of his eyes. "Or it might encourage them to abandon the project and betray us. Humans don't take well to my appearance, Reeve."

"Horseshit," countered the engineer. "I take to your appearance just fine, and the one time you came out in the open this week, you had more than a few people tripping over themselves. Have you ever bothered looking into a mirror, friend?"

"I didn't say I thought I was ugly," corrected Vincent calmly. "But most humans don't understand my nature. They're generally uneasy around me."

"What is there to understand?" demanded Reeve, honestly unable to see the problem. "People know about the Seraphim. I don't see why they'd regard you any differently than they do them."

"Because I'm not _like_ them," answered Vincent. "Do you need a reminder?"

Reeve faked a sigh. "I suppose I do."

The material of Vincent's shirt rustled, and Reeve stepped back to give him room as two great, black and red leathery wings emerged, pushing out through the slits specially tailored into the back of the garment. Reeve found the sight far more fascinating than frightening, and he nodded in approval.

"You should go out like that."

Vincent snorted, and the leathery appendages spread a bit, before folding close to his body again. "You're mad."

"That's why you hired me, isn't it?" Reeve put his arms around the being, again demonstrating that very few things could intimidate him. "What good would a sane engineer be, for your plans? A man with a greater sense of self-preservation might have backed out, by now."

Vincent returned his embrace, his lips parting as he gazed into Reeve's eyes. "I'd like to believe I've given you enough incentive to make up for the risk."

"Ah, yes. When it comes to risk versus reward, you've been more than generous with the latter. Speaking of which, I could probably take an hour out of my schedule."

"Won't that slow your progress?" Vincent's wings curved around to embrace him as well, and his lips were closing in on Reeve's.

"I trust my crew not to blow anything up in my absence," insisted Reeve huskily. He started to unbutton Vincent's shirt, slowly baring the creamy skin of his clavicle and upper chest. "And if one of them happens to catch on fire, the others will put him out."

"Your compassion for them is—"

Vincent's comment was cut off as the engineer cupped the back of his head with one hand and began to kiss him. There was no concern that anyone would walk in on them. Nobody would dare enter this part of the building without permission, to begin with. Shelving thoughts of work in the back of his mind for now, Reeve urged his companion toward the couch in the corner of the room, fully intending to enjoy every moment of his self-declared break.

* * *

_Back at the Temple of the Ancients:_

"So that's the deal. I want to see if I can have a talk with the president and negotiate the release of this girl."

Sephiroth relaxed in his throne, listening to Zack pensively. When the brunet finished, Sephiroth looked at his blond advisor, sitting beside him. "Lazard, could you arrange such a thing?"

Lazard frowned, removing his glasses to polish the lenses with a cloth he produced from his breast pocket. "It's doubtful, though not impossible. Lord Zackary, you must understand that Rufus Shinra is my half brother. My defection is a betrayal, to him. He may not be willing to listen to any suggestions I make at all, and he has no love for the Seraphim." He looked at the seraph beside him, whose angelic features gave nothing away. "He isn't ready to start an all-out war yet, however. Negotiations might be possible, if a reasonable price were offered in exchange. He took the girl to ensure the cooperation of Nibelheim, because he feared the mayor would side with Gongaga."

"Well, what if Sephiroth 'buys' her from him?"

That provoked a reaction from the silver-haired being on the throne. Sephiroth narrowed his serpentine gaze on Zack. "What use would I have for some barmaid from the mountains of Nibel? Furthermore, what makes you think I would be willing to spend so much as a coin on her?"

"I'd pay," corrected Zack. "You don't have to give a red cent, so relax."

"Then why don't you offer to buy her, yourself?"

Zack shrugged, looking at Lazard. "Because he just said Rufus took her because he was afraid Nibelheim would defect to me. It kind of defeats the purpose for me to ask for her, don't you think?"

"True," agreed Lazard with a nod. "Highness, if Zackary approached Rufus with this proposal, he would likely only see it as an attempt to return the girl to her father and bolster a Nibelheim rebellion against ShinRa."

"And you think he would be any more willing to negotiate with me than with Zackary?" Sephiroth made a graceful gesture at the wolf lord. "The human leaders trust him more than they trust Genesis and I."

"You could tell them we aren't getting along," suggested Zack. "Make it seem like there could be some infighting between us. That ought to get Shinra pretty excited, if you think about it."

Sephiroth raised a brow. "Hmm. You've come up with more asinine plans than this, before. The question is whether Shinra will take the bait and ransom the girl to me."

"I get the feeling that if he thinks it could stir shit between us, he just might do it." Zack smirked, looking at Lazard again. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You aren't wrong," answered Lazard, replacing his glasses on his face. He absently toyed with the serpent medallion hanging around his neck and he looked at Sephiroth. "It just may work, if you're willing to go through the trouble."

Sephiroth looked at Zack, his emerald gaze thoughtful. "We may manage to work out an agreement, if Zackary makes it worth my while."

The subtle curve of Sephiroth's mouth made Zack groan inwardly. "Man, I'm going to pay steeply for this favor," he mumbled under his breath.

* * *

Cloud looked up from the book he was reading when Zack entered the guest chambers he and the other Gongaga residents were waiting in. He shut the book and approached the wolf lord eagerly. "Well? Can you get an audience with the president?"

"We're going to try something else," Zack explained. "ShinRa came for your friend Tifa to keep her father loyal to them, right?"

Cloud nodded, his expression darkening. "Yeah."

"Well then, it wouldn't make much sense for the guy he thought he'd try to join up with to show up asking for the girl he took so that wouldn't happen, would it?"

Cloud frowned in confusion, taking a moment to translate that. "Er…I guess not. What are we going to do, then?"

Zack patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't get upset. I'm still looking out for you, okay? I'm paying Seph to arrange an audience with Shinra himself. We came up with a plan to convince Rufus he'd be better off giving Tifa up to Sephiroth than keeping her himself. Now, remember I can't promise anything, but I think this is our best chance of getting her back for you."

Cloud managed a smile, and he nodded. "I trust you, Zack."

Zack grinned back at him. "That's all I need to hear from you. Now come on, and I'll show you around the place. You'll probably be coming here with me again in the future for festival visits. You might as well get to know your way around while we're here, right?"

"Okay." Cloud wasn't too eager to see the rest of the mysterious, mist-shrouded city, but his curiosity was greater than his trepidation. "Where are we going first?"

"The temple gardens," answered Zack immediately. "I want you to meet someone special to me."

Guessing he must be talking about the water maiden he'd mentioned before, Cloud checked a sigh and told his jealousy to back off.

* * *

"There she is," Zack murmured, his eyes fixated on the young beauty before them.

Cloud looked at the girl, and he had to admit she was lovely. She hadn't noticed them yet. She was tending the exotic flowers around the clear pool of water, plucking weeds that threatened to choke them off. She was dressed in a wrap-around skirt of peach and violet colors and a halter made of strung glass beads and feathers. Her hair spilled like honey down her back, in rich waves, and the front was trimmed into a long fringe that framed her pretty face. Beams of sunlight filtered in through the blossoming garden trees, softened by the mist surrounding the area. It highlighted the gold and brown colors of her hair, and she was humming softly to herself.

"She's pretty," Cloud observed in a whisper.

Zack nodded. "Yeah, real pretty."

Cloud looked up at the masked seraph. "Aren't you going to say something to her?"

Zack seemed to shake himself out of a daze, and he gave the blond a sheepish look. "I guess I zoinked out there, for a minute. Hey, Aerith!" He said the last in a holler, startling the maiden so much that she accidentally plucked the lily she'd been smelling. She put a hand to her beaded chest and looked up at him with wide, jade-green eyes. When she recognized him, she smiled brightly and gasped.

"Zack! Um…I mean, Lord Zackary…you scared the life out of me!"

Zack grinned and approached her, offering his hand to help her up. She placed her slender hand in his and got to her feet. "Sorry about that. And nobody's around, so drop the formalities."

She looked around to be sure he was right, and she sighed. Her gaze went to the lily in her other hand. "Well, I suppose I could put this in a vase."

"Here." Zack took the flower from her and he pushed the stem into her hair, setting it in place over her left ear. "There. Perfect."

She smiled at him adoringly, and then her eyes went to Cloud. "Oh, who is this? I've never seen him before." She looked him up and down with guileless interest. "You dress like someone from the north."

"I'm…from Nibelheim," he said softly. He realized that the beaded garment covering her chest was really little more than an elaborate necklace, and though he didn't typically look at women that way, he found himself looking away for politeness' sake. Girls wore a lot more coverage, where he came from.

"Aerith, I'd like you to meet Cloud Strife. He's my new royal advisor. Cloud, this is Aerith…prettiest flower in the garden."

She gave him a light, playful slap on the arm. "You. So, you have an 'advisor' now? How did that happen?"

"Last minute decision," admitted Zack with a grin. He sighed, his gaze admiring on her behind the wolf mask. "I'm helping him get his friend back, if I can. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she assured him, taking both his hands in hers. She looked at Cloud. "What happened to your friend?"

Cloud stuck his hands into his pockets. "ShinRa took her, to make the mayor of my town swear allegiance to them."

She compressed her lips, her pretty green eyes flashing with annoyance. "Those…bullies. Well, with Zack on your side, maybe you can get her back, soon." She smiled proudly at the wolf lord. "He's really good at helping people."

Zack looked down and shrugged. "I just do what feels right." He put his arms around her and drew her close. "I just wish…well, I guess they treat you okay here."

She nodded and put her arms around his neck, sighing as well. "Yes, I'm never mistreated. You don't have to keep worrying, Zack."

Feeling like an intruder all the sudden, Cloud bit his lip. "Uh, I think I'll go back to the guest chambers with the others, Zack. You two should have some time alone."

Zack looked at him with a slightly embarrassed expression. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, Cloud."

"No, it's okay," insisted the blond, his fondness for the wolf lord overriding the pain he felt at witnessing his closeness with someone else. "I know you haven't seen her for a while. I don't mind. I know my way back."

"Well, help yourself to the banquet they'll be putting out in an hour or so," Zack encouraged. "Don't be shy, okay? I'll see you sometime tomorrow, Cloud."

The blond nodded, guessing by his comment that he intended to spend the night in Aerith's bed…or have her spend it in his. He knew Zack was given royal accommodation for his visit, separate from Cloud and the others' shared guest chambers.

"It's nice to meet you, Aerith."

"Likewise!" she assured him cheerfully. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to let me know, okay?"

It was on the tip of Cloud's tongue to say that it looked like Zack was going to be keeping her too occupied for that, but he smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Zack…thanks again for doing this for me."

"You don't have to keep thanking me," advised Zack, "especially when I haven't got the girl back, yet. Just keep in mind this is a fifty-fifty chance, at best."

"I know, but I appreciate it, all the same." With that said, Cloud left them alone.

* * *

"So," Zack murmured when they were alone together again. "What do you want to do today, beautiful?"

Aerith smiled at him, and she traced his jaw with her fingertips before pulling away and taking his hands in hers. "Let's get you cleaned up, first. We can use a private bath chamber."

"Are you saying I stink?" He was grinning, and he allowed her to lead him away to the garden exit.

Aerith smiled over her shoulder at him. "I'm saying I've missed bathing my wolf. Is something wrong with that?"

Zack shook his head. "Not a damned thing, sweetheart."

* * *

While Sephiroth made arrangements to grant Zack's "favor" and attempt to negotiate for Tifa Lockheart's custody, Genesis was overseeing Angeal's progress, both as a construction worker and a warrior. By day, the big man worked on the temple and by night, he sparred in the training ring with other warriors aspiring to become royal guards. Genesis came to watch often, his eyes narrowed on his slave as Angeal demonstrated that his swordsmanship wasn't lacking one bit, as originally suspected. He wasn't yet perfect, but his footwork and bladework left little doubt that he could easily become one of the finest warriors in Menephera, if given the chance.

It called into question how such a man had managed to get captured by raiders. Knowing how exceptionally strong Angeal was, Genesis had drawn the conclusion that his fighting skills must not have been good enough to fend off his attackers, but now he revised that opinion. On the fourth night of watching him spar, Genesis motioned one of the taskmasters over to him and he murmured a low order into his ear.

"I want Angeal brought to my chambers, as soon as he's completed his training for the night and been bathed. He'll be joining me for dinner, tonight."

The man bowed. "Yes, Pharaoh."

Satisfied that his instructions would be followed, Genesis watched Angeal again. Without meaning to, he visually caressed the broad back and strong shoulders as he watched Angeal take a powerful swing at his opponent with the padded, wooden sword. He moved with impressive speed, for a man of his size. His opponent was leaner in build and Genesis could almost feel pity for him, if any of Angeal's strikes hit their mark. He guessed the big slave would temper his strikes so as not to cause lasting harm to his opponents, but there was only so much he could expect to hold back.

Forcing himself to stop staring at Angeal and fantasizing about the night he'd had with him several days ago, Genesis manifested his wing and took to the air. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by a fine specimen of man. It seemed he had to remind himself of that fact more often, with each passing day. He cursed himself for his weakness as his mind unwillingly replayed all of the things Angeal had done to him in his bedchambers, that night. He'd deliberately avoided bedding him again since then, quietly concerned that his priorities might shift, if he did.

"And yet, I make excuses to have him brought to my chambers yet again," sighed the seraph. He took no pleasure in the caress of the warm night air on his skin as he flew towards his palace, because his mind was fixated on bliss of another sort. When did pleasures of the flesh become such a dangerous thing?

* * *

Angeal was beginning to get used to being bathed by others, but he knew he would never, ever come to like it—unless the one bathing him happened to be the Pharaoh. He hated the fact that his collar had a ring attached to the front for a chain, so that he could be led around like a pet by his keepers. Still, even with all of this indignity and humiliation, his heart pounded at the thought of being summoned to Genesis' private chambers, again. His desire for the seraph hadn't been quenched by their one encounter, unfortunately. He spent his nights dreaming of having him again, and his days wondering if he really was just a convenient source of entertainment, to him.

They led him into the palace and they removed his chains—including his leash—before opening the double doors and urging him inside. Angeal obligingly stepped in, and he found Genesis sitting at the dining table. Sheba was relaxed at the Pharaoh's feet, and Genesis was just feeding her a morsel of roast from his hand. His face was free of paint or kohl, giving an un-obscured view of his sculpted features. While he wore the cultural makeup well, Angeal always appreciated seeing him in his natural state.

Remembering his place as the doors closed, Angeal knelt smoothly and bowed his head. "My Pharaoh, you sent for me."

"Come, take your shoes off and have something to eat," ordered Genesis. He looked up from his pet, his aqua gaze sliding over Angeal's form in a caressing manner that provoked a little thrill to race up his spine. "You've done very good work this week, and it deserves to be rewarded."

Angeal got back to his feet and he obeyed. He unlaced his sandals and left them by the door, before padding barefoot over the stone floor to join his master at the table. The caracal glanced up at him as he sat down, and then she returned her attention to the meaty treat Genesis had given her. There were no dumbapples included in the fruit selection this time, but given the state of things in Banora right now, that didn't surprise him. He was thankful to get the taste of home at all, and he knew other slaves weren't given the luxury of imported fruits from far-off lands.

"You're happy with my progress?" Angeal asked politely, keeping his eyes on the food as he selected it from the bowls and plates.

"I am," agreed Genesis.

He took a sip of wine and he held his cup out when Angeal picked up the bottle and held it out in offering. The slave poured more of the red liquid into the cup, before filling his own with a modest amount. Genesis had another sip and he watched as Angeal selected a cut of roast for his plate.

"You said you were overwhelmed, when you were captured," Genesis said.

Angeal suddenly felt uncomfortable. "That's right. Does it matter?"

The Pharaoh sighed, and he picked up a shelled almond and he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. "I could believe that a man of your strength might be overwhelmed, if enough opponents converged the attack at once—but only if he were a poor fighter, weaponless or injured. You mentioned none of this, and after seeing the way you handle yourself in the ring, I have to question your original story."

"Why is it so important to you?" asked Angeal, forgetting to address him with formal titles in his frustration. "I'm your slave, now. My past isn't important."

"Ordinarily, I would agree with you. However, when I choose to ask a slave about his or her past, I expect honest answers. " Genesis took his eyes off the nut in his hand, and he stared at Angeal over the table. "You're so much more than a simple slave, Angeal. I knew it from the beginning. My quandary lies with trying to find out exactly _what_ you are, and as honest as you tend to be, I know you're still holding something back from me."

"I'm not," insisted Angeal. "I told you I was overwhelmed, and that's the truth of the matter."

The seraph only looked more irritated. "Were you attacked by a fleet?"

Angel's lips quirked and he cleared his throat to cover a chuckle, shaking his head. "No, nothing that severe."

"Then you couldn't have been overwhelmed. Not by normal men...not in the numbers you described."

"There were more of them," Angeal confessed with a sigh, "but they weren't attacking me. They were threatening the villagers; including children and the elderly. I never said I was overwhelmed physically, Master."

A look of comprehension came over Genesis' face. "You were enslaved by your own compassion and honor," he reasoned. "They never actually 'captured' you, did they?"

Angeal shook his head, frowning down at his plate. "They mentioned something about the kind of price I would fetch on the slave market, and I offered a compromise; my surrender in exchange for cessation of hostilities against Banora. They accepted, and I eventually ended up here."

He almost wished he hadn't volunteered the information. A dirty little part of him noticed how determined Genesis was to get it, and he realized he might have blackmailed the seraph into sleeping with him again, in exchange for the rest of the story. Shuddering at the mere thought of manipulating another person that way—even a non-human one—Angeal was thankful for his own stiff moral code. It wouldn't have felt real, if he'd coerced this gorgeous creature into sharing his body with him again. He noticed the way Genesis kept staring at him, and a part of him dared to hope he might not _need_ to try and seduce or coerce him.

"That's all of it," insisted Angeal, uncertain whether the intensity in that gaze was desire or mistrust. "To the best of my knowledge, I haven't left anything important out. With all due respect, staring at me won't change the facts as I remember them, my Pharaoh."

Genesis smirked and shook his head. "I'm merely trying to understand you, and this code you live by. You are a strange and wondrous creature, Angeal."

The human smirked back, delaying the sip he was about to have. "I'll take that as a compliment." He drank, and so did Genesis. Their eyes met and held over their cups, and it was hard for Angeal to remember their differences in social status. With a little pang, he realized that in another lifetime, he and the redhead could have become good friends…and perhaps dedicated lovers.

* * *

They enjoyed a pleasant meal together, and before he knew it, Genesis was making small talk with the other man. He began to share his likes and dislikes and amazingly, Angeal didn't seem to get the slightest bit bored when he went into the subject of literature. The big man admitted that he wasn't familiar with a lot of the novels, poems and plays Genesis listed off, but he smiled that quiet smile of his as the Pharaoh enthused about them…as if just hearing him talk so passionately about it was a treat.

Genesis had the servants bring a second bottle of wine in, and he proceeded to have the most enjoyable evening he'd had in a very long time. He learned that Angeal was a fan of a popular game called "football", which was more common in the human controlled lands than Seraphim territory. He almost scoffed when the slave offered to show him how to play sometime, but there was something fun and boyish about the usually serious, somber man making such an offer…so Genesis agreed.

By the time the servants returned to collect the leftovers and clean up the table, Genesis was feeling pretty good. He'd over-indulged a bit with the wine, and he could tell by the relaxed poise of his companion that Angeal was in the same fix. The servants left them with a fresh pitcher of water, a washing bowl and some towels. Once they were alone again, Genesis started to tell Angeal it was time for him to retire to the slave pens for the night, but something else came out of his mouth, entirely.

"I have a confession to make."

Angeal raised his dark brows, his handsome face relaxing with intrigue. "Oh?"

Genesis nodded, even as the tiny, sober part of mind yelled at him that he was making a mistake. Distracted and confused by his wine-softened feelings, he stared at the human's chiseled features and he forgot what he was originally going to confess. He instead commented on the first thing that sprang to mind as Angeal stared back at him. "I…like your eyes."

Angeal looked a bit confused and a little crestfallen, but he gave a polite nod. "Thank you."

"They're deep," elaborated Genesis. "Like the ocean. There's a saying significant to that, you know. 'Still waters run deep'."

_~Goddess, why can't I stop? Mute me, Minerva, I beg you.~_

"I…don't understand what that means," answered Angeal after a moment's thought.

"It means that a quiet person such as yourself has more depth than most people realize, basically," explained Genesis, unable to help himself. He'd be writing fucking sonnets to the man soon, if he didn't cease this.

"Oh." Angeal gave him another one of those attractive, quiet smiles. "While we're on the subject of confessions, I have one I'd like to make, too."

Genesis took a sip of water. "And that is?"

Those still, quiet eyes met his directly again, and suddenly they weren't so quiet, after all. They were smoldering with passion. "I want to make love to you, again."

Genesis almost choked on his drink and he quickly swallowed before the liquid could go down wrong and turn him into a coughing idiot. "Do you, now?" He willed his heart to stop hammering in his chest, and he stared at the clear liquid in his cup. "I thought we already established that further encounters of that nature will be decided by me, if they occur at all."

"I'm not making a demand," assured Angeal humbly, his gaze remaining steady on him. "I'm asking you to let me, Pharaoh. I know who has the power here, and I can take 'no' for an answer, if that's what you decide."

Genesis struggled for sobriety and mental clarity. He was already hardening in his loincloth at the thought of touching that body again, and feeling those hands on his body in return. He remembered vividly how unerringly Angeal had thrust home at the perfect angle each time, when he took him. The memory alone was enough to make his body sing with recalled pleasure, and he dearly wanted to feel that thick length inside of him again. Every interaction with Angeal felt so natural, and right.

Realizing the path his thoughts were wandering down, Genesis briefly shut his eyes and he came to a painful, unenthused decision. He did his best to armor himself against his own arousal and need as he answered the slave. "I'm afraid the answer is 'no', tonight. I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow, and so do you. I'll arrange for a slavekeeper to come and take you back to the pens, for the night."

Angeal sighed, unable to hide his disappointment. "If that's what you really want."

"It is," insisted the seraph—lying through his teeth.

He stood up and Angeal did so as well, as was proper. Genesis started for the double doors, but Angeal suddenly stepped in front of him and blocked his path. Peeved at the audacity of the man, the seraph briefly forgot about the awkward tent in his garment and he frowned at his slave. He parted his lips to speak, but Angeal beat him to it.

"You're sure?"

Angeal closed the distance between their faces as he said it, in much the same way as he'd done the first night of his recovery from his beating. His breath tickled Genesis' face, and the earthy patchouli scent clinging to his skin was the perfect fragrance for such a powerful example of manhood.

From another man, the action could have appeared challenging. Genesis saw humans invading each other's personal space in a similar manner all the time, practically kissing in their efforts to intimidate each other. He'd always found such behavior more amusing than menacing, and he imagined he would be tempted to lick his opponent's face just to see his reaction, if anyone ever attempted to intimidate him that way. This wasn't the same thing. Angeal clearly wanted to kiss him, but he had the good sense not to take liberties without permission.

"You're in danger of angering your Pharaoh," Genesis warned—but the note of desire and intrigue in his voice betrayed the true effect of the proposition.

"It's a risk I'm prepared to take."

Angeal proved his point by touching him without permission. He placed both hands on Genesis' shoulders and gave them a squeeze, before stroking down over his biceps. He closed the distance between their mouths and he kissed him—softly and cajolingly, at first. When Genesis responded impulsively, the kiss deepened and became more demanding. Angeal's tongue thrust into the seraph's mouth in a pillaging manner, blurring the lines between master and slave once again. Dull-witted with wine and lust, Genesis purred in his throat and put one arm around the taller man's waist. He stroked the powerful chest with his free hand, delighting in the feel of those muscles under his palm. The action of consent made the flames of Angeal's desire burn brighter, and he put his arms around Genesis and lifted him.

"W-What are you—" gasped the Pharaoh indignantly against his companion's lips, unused to being literally _picked up_ this way, by anyone. He saw Sheba get to her feet and watch curiously, and he made a hasty sign to her to stay…just in case she decided her master was in danger and needed her aid. Angeal's mouth covered his again, and he carried him over to the platform, where the bed awaited. He hardly gave Genesis a chance to think and once his weight was pressing him down on the bedding, the seraph had no further objections.

* * *

The next morning, Genesis bathed with Angeal and then he sent him on his way to his daily tasks. He was quite sore from their vigorous activities the night before, and he was late attending court. None of his council dared to question him—except for Asim, once his royal duties were fulfilled for the day and he dismissed the council. The dark-skinned, green-eyed advisor shrewdly noted the ginger way his Pharaoh was seated on his throne. Aside from Angeal, he was the only mortal daring enough to speak plainly to Genesis, and he did so once they were alone in the reception hall.

"His highness is in a good mood, today," observed the advisor.

"Indeed, he is," sighed Genesis, a smug little grin curving his sensual lips. He shifted on the throne and his barely perceptible wince gave away the nature of his discomfort, but he was clearly more pleased with it than unhappy.

Asim considered his next words, and he guessed he wouldn't suffer a penalty for speaking his mind, when the seraph was so relaxed and satisfied. "You're _certain_ you don't want to take him as your consort, my king?"

When Genesis's lazy expression hardened, the human hastily tried to reason with him. "I only press the matter because you've always been one to follow propriety. You've taken only Angeal to your chambers, since he arrived. A Pharaoh is expected to seek his pleasures when he may, of course, but the exclusivity you've demonstrated leaves the impression that you favor this man above all other servants. Court goes quickly when you're this content, and the people sense and approve of it. In short, this slave has been good for you, Pharaoh. We all wish you to be this happy more often. Making him your official consort seems the logical choice."

"Naming him as my consort won't make him any more or less available to me for any sensual needs I allow him to fulfill," reminded Genesis—and he looked charmingly and uncommonly bashful, his sculpted cheeks coloring a bit. "Mind your own affairs, Asim."

"Keeping my Pharaoh happy _is_ my affair," answered the advisor with a respectful bow, "but I won't press the matter further, this day."

"Good." Genesis relaxed and he stood up with a little wince, manifesting his wing. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and hunt, today. I may visit Corel to observe the mining progress there, as well."

Asim bowed again. "As you wish, Pharaoh."

He watched Genesis leave the reception hall to travel the corridor leading to his personal chambers, and he hid a smile at the subtle limp in the seraph's steps.

* * *

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 5

* * *

Author's note: This chapter has been censored to comply with FFnet's mature content policy. To read the full version, visit my profile on Archive of our own, which is linked under my profile here.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

_A couple of days later, in Midgar:_

Rufus was very surprised by the Serpent King's request for an audience. All the missive could tell him was that Sephiroth wanted to discuss a trade with him. He called for a council meeting to discuss the matter, before giving his response to the missive. His Turks—specialized operatives from an organization he'd created with Tseng's help—were there. His top scientists, military advisors and political advisors were there as well. Reeve Tuesti was sadly absent, however, because he was still in Junon, working on the submarine project.

Mr. Palmer—head of the astronomy society—was the first to weigh in his opinion. It came as no shock to the President that he was against meeting with the Serpent King. "You can't trust him, Sir. He's been trying to encroach on our borders for months. We've just barely maintained control of our lands to the south. Junon could get taken any day, now."

"I'm aware of the land disputes currently underway," reminded Rufus crossly, pacing the center of the domed council chamber. His people stood in a circle around him, so that he could turn and address each of them whenever he saw fit. He did so now, focusing his attention on the blonde woman in the red satin gown. She stood next to a portly man in a green and brown suit, with dark hair and a beard.

"Scarlet, Heidegger, what are your thoughts on this?"

The woman and her companion looked at each other, before she spoke up. "Palmer is right to be wary of this creature," she said, "but this could present a rare opportunity."

Rufus nodded. "Yes, it could. The Serpent King is wealthy. If he's sincere about desiring a trade, our coffers could benefit from this. It may even pay for the project Tuesti is working on in Junon."

"That isn't exactly the opportunity I was thinking of, Sir." Scarlet's ruby lips curved into a sly smile. "Yes, the Serpent King is wealthy. There are other ways of taking advantage of that fact, without opening yourself up to possible treachery by negotiation."

Rufus was intrigued. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

* * *

The next day, Sephiroth's royal missive informed him that President Shinra agreed to meet with him in neutral territory to discuss business. The Serpent King was enjoying a leisurely soak in his private bath with his royal advisor, and he thanked the missive and dismissed him with instructions to have the airship and a regiment of guards prepared for the journey.

"I really hope this isn't a mistake," mused Lazard when they were alone together again, "But I trust your judgment."

"Good," answered Sephiroth pleasantly, "because role choices in the bedroom notwithstanding, I make the decisions."

Lazard smiled quietly at the reminder, and he removed his glasses when the lenses started to fog up, setting them at the edge of the pool. "You don't have to remind me of that, you know. Have I ever failed to abide by your wishes, Sephiroth?"

"Not yet," agreed Sephiroth with a smirk. "I just feel I should remind you now and then. I submit to you in the privacy of my chambers, but don't allow it to go to your head."

"I promise, that will never happen," assured Lazard.

He scooted closer to his king on the raised seat, his body reacting to thoughts of how completely Sephiroth surrendered to him, in the bedroom. His hand slid down over the seraph's damp chest and he admired the toned muscles, before dropping it lower. Sephiroth's long silver hair floated around them in the water, and the dark emerald coils of his alteration took up most of the rest of the pool. The scales almost appeared black, until the light touched them and revealed the green highlights. No other mortal would have dared to touch Sephiroth so familiarly while he was in this form, but Lazard found it just as beautiful as his standard human form.

The underside—or belly—of the serpentine form was a lighter shade than the rest, and Lazard had discovered it was quite sensitive to the touch. He demonstrated this knowledge by reaching down to caress the smooth scales beneath the water, tracing the area around Sephiroth's hidden groin. He fondled the silver-haired being's nipples one at a time with his other hand, and he kissed his neck and shoulder. The soft, barely perceptible gasp of pleasure told him his actions were getting results, and sure enough, he could feel swelling beneath the palm that explored below Sephiroth's waist.

Still human from the waist up, Sephiroth tilted his head and shut his eyes, putting one arm around the human lavishing such attention on him. This was the first time his companion had ever touched him quite so boldly, while he was in this altered form. "Your balls seem to get bigger by the day, Lazard."

Lazard chuckled against the silken, damp skin he was kissing. "I'm curious, I admit. You know I'll stop immediately, if you don't want this to go further."

"No," answered Sephiroth, turning his head for a kiss. After leisurely caressing the inside of his mouth with his perfectly human tongue, the seraph withdrew and spoke in a husky murmur. "My body retains its needs in this form, too. If you're sincerely interested, I'm happy to let you explore it."

Lazard was all too happy to take him up on the offer, though he had to admit that he was slightly nervous.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Menephera:_

He didn't know why, but Angeal hadn't expected Genesis to be quite so good with a blade. The Pharaoh insisted on sparring with him when he got word that none of Angeal's opponents presented much of a challenge. Seeing as the man got waited on hand and foot by the palace servants, Angeal foolishly presumed he didn't train his swordsmanship skills regularly. He was now learning the painful truth as he narrowly blocked an attack in time. The weapons threw sparks as the blades crossed, and Angeal was startled when his sword cracked and broke in half from the force of Genesis' blow.

"I yield," he said, tossing the now useless weapon to the arena floor and holding his hands out.

Genesis lowered his crimson glowing blade and he nodded, his skin sparkling in the sun with a fine sheen of sweat. He looked at the watching taskmasters. "Get him a fresh blade. We'll spar again after a short break."

They bowed and hastened to find a suitable replacement for Angeal's weapon. Genesis turned his attention back to his slave, watching him from behind the concealing mask he wore. "Are you thirsty?"

Angeal nodded. "Yes, Pharaoh."

"Come, then." The seraph sheathed his sword at his back and gestured commandingly. "We'll have a drink at the well and rest in the shade."

Angeal followed him, and he couldn't stop his gaze from resting on Genesis' ass—partially exposed due to the loincloth he wore today. He really did have the most delectable backside Angeal had ever seen, and his mind went to their last series of sexual encounters, and what it felt like to press his pelvis firmly against that ass. They made it to the well, shaded by the tarp draped overhead to offer relief from the sun. Genesis glanced at him as the well attendant started to collect a bucketful for them, and he smirked when he saw where Angeal's gaze had fixated.

"Is there something on your mind that you'd like to share?"

Angeal snapped out of his lusty thoughts, blinking. "No, my Pharaoh. The…the heat has me in a daze."

"Ah, yes. Come sit with me on the bench and rest for a bit." Genesis approached said bench by the wall, patting the spot beside him. Angeal immediately joined him, trying not to stare at the way his toned chest and stomach glistened with sweat,

The well attendant scooped some water out of the bucket and filled two wooden cups, before handing them over to Genesis first and Angeal second. Genesis nodded at the man as he bowed, backing away. He took a sip of the water and he grimaced at the warmth.

"This won't do." Genesis touched a materia gem on his left bracer, just barely waking it for his needs. He used the magic on his cup and then he took Angeal's and did the same for him. The handsome slave looked a bit startled when frost lined his cup, and he took an experimental sip of the refreshment.

His brows went up with surprise as he swallowed. "It's like ice-water."

"Magic has its practical uses at times." Genesis smirked and took another sip, finding the water much more refreshing now that it was cold. He noticed Angeal staring at him and he tempered the childish urge to squirm. "What is it, Angeal?"

"I remember you, now."

Genesis frowned at him. "Tell me the heat hasn't baked your brain. That makes no sense."

"From childhood," elaborated Angeal with a little smile. "When you lived in Banora. I remember you."

Genesis watched him suspiciously. "How could that be? My family left when I was still little more than a toddler."

Angeal shrugged. "It's not a very detailed memory, but I'm sure it was you. It came to me last night when I was…thinking of you."

Genesis smiled a little. "Were you? And what pray tell were you doing, when you were thinking of me?"

Angeal glanced at the well attendant. "I'd rather not say, Pharaoh."

That provoked a low chuckle from the seraph. "Hmm. That answers my question. Regardless, you couldn't possibly remember that far back—"

"You take after your mother in looks," insisted the big man softly. "Your father was blond."

Genesis went still, and a hot breeze stirred his sweat-dampened auburn hair. "Any of my subjects could have told you that, if you asked."

"True," agreed Angeal, "but what would I get out of deceiving you?"

"Nothing that I can think of," admitted the Pharaoh, his beautiful eyes narrowed suspiciously on him behind the mask. "All right then…what was I doing, in this alleged memory of yours? How did you see me?"

"You were playing in the sand box," answered Angeal. "Your nanny brought you to the playground, I think. Your parents came and got you, though. I remembered because you were sprouting your wing, and I was curious about it."

* * *

Genesis stared at the earnest expression on Angeal's face, and he cast his mind back through time. Yes, he'd manifested his wing early in life. Many seraphim didn't grow theirs until after puberty, but Genesis had his by four, and he was flying without help by the age of six. He couldn't remember Angeal yet, but he had a vague recollection of digging in the sandbox. Maybe he never saw the other boy watching him.

"That's a powerful sense of recollection you have," complimented Genesis after having another sip of water. "I can barely remember as far back as seven."

"Well, you made an impression," Angeal smiled at him. "Even back then. I remember asking my mother what a seraph was, when she explained why you had the little wing budding from your back."

Genesis tried not to let the story endear him further to the human, but it was no use. Just picturing a miniature Angeal asking questions about him was enough to make uninvited warmth spread through the Pharaoh. He looked at the cup of water in his hands and he tried to settle his wildfire emotions.

"It was a long time ago."

"Yes it was," agreed the human. "I didn't get the chance to say 'hello' to you before your parents took you away. That made me sad."

Genesis started to grin. It didn't happen often, but one of the things he'd learned about Angeal was that when he was comfortable enough, he had a boyish side that sometimes manifested. He looked at him thoughtfully, and once again his baser emotions took over. "The swords you've been using seem ill-suited to a man of your power. I think you could do better."

Angeal nodded. "At home, I used a claymore. It was much longer and heavier than the broadswords and longswords typical here."

"What if I allowed you to design your own ideal weapon, and enchanted the blade to make it unbreakable?"

The brunet regarded him with subtle surprise. "You would do that?"

Genesis shrugged, keeping his tone as casual as possible. "If you're going to eventually become a member of my honor guard, it's important that you be able to perform to the best of your ability. If that means allowing you to design a custom blade for yourself, so be it."

Angeal's mouth curved into one of those quiet smiles. "I'd like that."

Ridiculously affected by that one little smile, Genesis looked away and had another drink of water, at a loss for a response. Angeal spoke again, breaking the moment of silence. "I confess, I didn't expect you to be so good with a blade."

Genesis gave him an offended frown. "And why is that?"

The human shrugged his broad shoulders. "You're the Pharaoh. Your job is to rule, not fight."

Genesis smirked. "A man or seraph that won't take up the blade to defend his kingdom is no ruler worth his title. I would make a poor Pharaoh indeed, if I did nothing but sit around and grow fat and lazy."

Angeal nodded in approval. "That's a good point. They say you hunt to restock your own larders, too. Is that true?"

"So you've been doing some research on your Pharaoh." Genesis cracked another smile. "Yes, it's true. Part of the Pharaoh's duty to his kingdom is to provide for his people, and lead by example. It inspires my subjects to work harder, when they see that I'm willing to participate as well."

The big man watched him silently, searchingly. Genesis was growing uncomfortable under that stare, and he began to get irritated. "What?"

Angeal gave him another quiet little smile. "Then you don't consider yourself above humans, after all."

"Make no mistake," advised Genesis, "Seraphim are a breed apart. Because I can live in harmony with my subjects doesn't mean that I consider them equals to me."

"That sounds rehearsed. Is it coming from your heart, or is it something you've been taught to say?"

Genesis' mouth tightened. He finished off his water and he put the cup down. "Finish your drink," he said. "This conversation is finished, and we have another hour of training to put you through."

Angeal sighed, taking the not-so-subtle hint.

* * *

There were still so many things he wanted to know about him, but Angeal was learning that he could only press for so many details from Genesis at a time. It would take patience, persistence and tact to get to know him the way he wanted to. In the meantime, he settled for word of mouth and the little morsels of information he could coax from the seraph. He knew his parents had passed away before Genesis turned twenty. Rumor had it they were poisoned, and Genesis discovered the traitor and had him mummified alive.

Angeal just couldn't figure him out…not completely. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand him, he learned something about Genesis that had him scratching his head in perplexity again. Even as he yearned to know him better, his body ached for him. It was nearing a week since their last passionate encounter, and he was growing restless again. He helped with the construction of the sword he designed with the smithy, trying to distract himself from his sexual frustration. Each time he sparred with the Pharaoh, he entertained thoughts of pinning him to the arena floor and ravishing him, when he should have been concentrating on offense and defense. It slowed his training progress down, but it did extend the time he got to spend with him.

The strangest development occurred at week's end, when the work on the temple of Minerva was finally complete. After being bathed, Angeal was called to the Pharaoh's chambers for a private audience, and he guessed he would be having dinner with him again. When his chains were removed and the guards shut the doors behind him, Angeal started to kneel before his reclining master, who was reading a book on his lounge. He got a pleasant surprise from Sheba, who approached him before he could complete the motion. The big hunting cat rubbed against him in greeting, nearly making him stumble. He reached down impulsively to give her a cautious scratch behind the ears, smiling.

"She's taken a liking to you," said Genesis, not looking up from his book.

Remembering his manners, Angeal completed his kneel and he bowed his head. "I live to serve, Pharaoh."

Genesis lowered the book and marked his place with a gold ribbon, before shutting it and setting it aside on the coffee table. Today he wore one of the ceremonial gold-pleated skirts, rather than a loincloth. He smelled like he'd recently bathed and applied scented oils, and his hair was slightly damp. He had his beaded jewelry on and he'd applied his eyeliner—but this time there was gold lining the outer edges of the black. The gold laces of his sandals wrapped around his calves and Angeal found it unreasonably sensual. Genesis got out of his lounge and he crossed the room to him.

"Rise."

Angeal did so, and Genesis petted Sheba's head when she went to him and bumped her cheek against his leg. "You've done excellent work," said the Pharaoh, "not only on our great temple, but in your training and…other areas." He smirked as he said the last, his pretty, blue-green eyes traveling over Angeal's form. "Such hard work deserves some reward, I think."

Angeal's body immediately began to react to the sensual possibilities, and he hunched a bit to try and hide the evidence. "I'm happy to have pleased you."

Genesis nodded at his dining table. "There is a box there. Open it."

Angeal turned to see the carved wooden box sitting in the center of the table. It was fairly large…possibly a foot and a half squared. He approached it and he gave the Pharaoh one questioning glance, before sliding the clasp open and lifting the hinged lid. He peered inside with a frown, and it took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. Thinking he must be wrong, Angeal reached into the box gingerly and he lifted the item out.

"It's…a human skull."

To be fair, it was a bleached, polished and painted with cultural symbols of Menephera. The top of it had been removed and growing out of it was a small succulent plant.

"It's the skull of the man who nearly beat you to death, that day at the mines." Genesis closed the distance and tilted his head as he looked at it. "Surely, you can appreciate the irony."

Angeal looked at him with horror he couldn't quite disguise. "You had him executed?"

The seraph looked back at him, and puzzlement grew on his exquisite features. "Well, yes. I did the deed myself, in fact. His actions nearly cost you your life, and me a promising warrior. An example had to be made. It was a clean death—better than he deserved. After I beheaded him, I had his skull taken to be cleaned and prepared for this"

Angeal set the skull down on the table, feeling sick. He knew that Genesis thought he was doing an act of kindness with this "gift", and he wouldn't understand Angeal's discomfort if he tried to explain it to him. In his odd way, Genesis had acted to avenge a wrong done to him—but it still wasn't acceptable. The taskmaster couldn't have possibly fought back, even if he'd mustered the courage to do so. "I…don't know what to say."

Genesis' expression darkened. "You don't like it." He looked almost sullen.

Aware that it was taboo to decline a gift from the Pharaoh, Angeal tried to correct the situation. As arrogant as Genesis came off and as morally reprehensible as he found the actions leading to this "gift", he didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I appreciate the thought that you put into this," Angeal said gently, "but please understand, life is valued differently, where I come from. I…can't accept the gift, Genesis. I'm touched by your intentions, but…" He trailed off helplessly, willing the seraph with his eyes to try and understand.

"You believe I acted dishonorably, when I took his life."

"I didn't say that," objected Angeal. "I just don't believe he deserved to be executed for his actions. Not like that."

"But you're thinking it," persisted the redhead, his eyes holding Angeal's. "Tell me something, Angeal; what would you have me do? After what that swine did to you, what would have been your preferred method of punishment?"

"If you insisted that he die for his actions, I would have preferred to fight him myself," answered Angeal, his voice betraying his passion. "In the arena. At least he could have raised a weapon against a slave and had some fighting chance. He could do nothing against his own Pharaoh except brace himself for his fate—though I'm sure he must have pleaded for his life."

A flush darkened Genesis' cheeks, and his eyes brightened. Angeal stood his ground, fully prepared to accept the consequences of questioning his master's honor. For a moment, it looked like Genesis might call the guards to have him taken away to be whipped for his insolence, but he calmed himself with visible effort and lowered his gaze.

"I see. Your compassion can be an asset, I'm sure, but if you intend to earn the right to be a royal guard, you're going to have to temper those morals and be more practical. In addition to this gift—which you have made abundantly clear you don't want—your recruitment ceremony will be this evening. I've gotten word that the sword you helped design for your personal use is complete. The smithy will bring it to the palace and you are to be prepared to accept your new role in my army."

"I'm…being promoted to military caste?"

Genesis nodded. "It will be the beginning of your ascension to the elite guard, should you do well and prove yourself to me." He gave him a jaded look. "Unless of course you'd like to turn down _this_ offer, as well."

"No," Angeal said, and he sighed. "Pharaoh, I understand that things are different here, and I know I have challenges to face when it comes to my moral code. As I said, I can't accept the skull, but I _do_ accept the thought behind it, and I appreciate it."

Genesis frowned at him, the anger in his eyes dying to be replaced by confusion. "I don't understand you, Angeal."

The big man smiled painfully. "I don't understand you either yet, Genesis, but I hope to, some day."

_~And even if I never do, I don't think I can stop myself from falling in love with you.~_

For a horrifying moment, Angeal wondered if the seraph had read his mind, because Genesis' eyes narrowed on him again. When he spoke, it came as a relief. "Aren't you forgetting something, Angeal?"

Angeal stared at him stupidly for a second, before it occurred to him that he'd addressed him familiarly again. Genesis typically didn't like that, unless they were having an intimate encounter. There were other exceptions of course, but Angeal could tell that his feelings were still injured over his refusal, and he grimaced at his own mistake. He knelt before him and he spoke sincerely, if only because he hated making him unhappy.

"Forgive my lapse, Master."

He felt a hand rest on his head, and to his surprise, it stroked his hair a couple of times before withdrawing. "Don't disappoint me, Angeal. I'm granting you this opportunity because I believe you can be a valuable asset to my army."

Angeal looked up at him, his gaze steady and determined. "I'll fight in your name, but I have to do as my conscience dictates, too."

Genesis sighed, rolling his eyes. "Then let's hope your conscience doesn't demand you do anything stupid."

* * *

While Genesis and Angeal prepared for his initiation into the lower military ranks, Sephiroth, Lazard and a hand-selected unit of temple guards prepared to board the airship that would take them to the farmlands at the foot of the mountains, between Midgar and Junon. Technically, Junon harbor itself was still neutral territory, but Sephiroth was aware of how tenuous that was and he had little doubt that the humans there would side with ShinRa, if they had to. The northen part of the continent was ShinRa territory, and the south—with the exception of Junon—was Sephiroth's.

Cloud walked with Zack, Aerith and the other two Gongaga residents as they left the ziggurat to follow the Serpent King to his airship.

"Now, I'm not usually 'that guy'," Zack said cautiously as he kept stride with the silver seraph, "but don't let your guard down, okay? I'm used to dealing with Tseng and he's a lot more mellow than Rufus. The President's dangerous. Even the Pharaoh agrees with me on that."

"I'm well aware of how conniving Rufus Shinra can be," assured Sephiroth. "I've had plenty of dealings with him and his followers in the past, given that we've been vying for control of the same continent for years."

Zack sighed and put an arm around Aerith, when the water maiden tripped on a vine. "Yeah, but you and Genesis tend to underestimate humans."

Sephiroth glanced at his royal advisor, who arched an elegant blond brow at him. "I've developed a greater sense of respect for their kind, Zackary. Don't presume I'm going into this thing with my eyes shut."

Zack shrugged. "Okay, then."

Sephiroth turned and regarded the Wolf Lord with cool emerald eyes. "And don't attempt to steal my water maiden while we're gone." He gave a nod at Aerith, who smiled and blushed a little. "You're fortunate I allow you to bed her, Zackary."

Zack grumbled under his breath, before responding. "I'm not planning to get her that way. I'm going to wear you down until you say 'yes'."

"A method that's doomed to fail," countered Sephiroth.

"We'll see." Zack looked over his shoulder at Cloud, who was walking quietly behind them. He winked at the blond, setting his heart aflutter without any effort. "What are you doing way back there, Cloudy? Come up here with us."

"I'm okay," Cloud assured him, though in truth, he was afraid that if he looked at Zack and Aerith for too long, he'd start blushing and give something away.

Zack looked a bit concerned. "You sure? You've been awfully quiet today…even more than usual."

Cloud nodded. "I'm sure."

Zack looked at him suspiciously for a moment before turning to face front again, and Aerith cast a gently worried look his way, too. He wasn't about to confess to either of then that he'd overheard them in one of the little nooks in the temple gardens earlier that day. He didn't know what possessed him to investigate, knowing that Zack's sharp, inhuman senses could detect him at any moment. Fortunately for Cloud, the seraph's senses were otherwise occupied by the girl undulating on top of him in the grass, and Cloud got a pretty decent eyeful of their activities before he lost his nerve and fled.

He flushed despite his best efforts not to as his stupid brain stubbornly recalled the scene, replaying it in his mind. Aerith had looked radiant with pleasure, and the intense way Zack stared up at her and panted her name as he thrust beneath her made Cloud wish he was in her place. He wondered if it was possible for the seraph to get her pregnant. He was still unclear on that, and he assumed interbreeding was either rare or impossible…otherwise there should be more than just three seraphim left in the world.

He kept thinking of the way that strong, toned body moved…the way the abs and pecs tightened and relaxed, the way the thighs tensed as Zack raised his hips off the ground. Most of all, he kept picturing that handsome face, and how sexy the expression of pleasure was on it.

"Cloud, you're falling behind," Zack warned, cutting through the blond's sensual daydream. He looked up from the ground he'd been blindly staring at and he saw that the rest of the group was nearly twenty paces ahead of him. Clarice came back for him and she tactfully kept her thoughts to herself when she noticed his blush and traced his gaze back to the Wolf Lord.

"Come on, Strife, you don't want to get left behind out here. This place is really easy to get lost in."

Shoving his thoughts of riding Zackary's cock out of his mind, Cloud was thankful for his loose pants and the way they helped conceal the result of his perverted thoughts. "Sorry. I guess my mind's on other things."

"Mmm-hmm," agreed the flautist, her gaze saying she knew that those "other things" largely involved their leader. "Stick close to me. I won't let you get lost."

Cloud checked another sigh. He didn't hold it against Aerith for loving Zack, and he couldn't even blame Zack for loving her back. She was gentle, kind, patient and beautiful. She'd brought Cloud treats from the vegetable gardens and she seemed to take a genuine interest in getting to know him. Honestly, Cloud didn't really mind her being with Zack at all; he just wished he could be with him like that, too.

* * *

"Sir, all teams are in place."

Rufus nodded in satisfaction as he looked up at the tall, bald Turk. "Good. I want you and Reno to be prepared to launch a distraction, if this takes a turn for the worse."

"Yes, Mr. President." Rude took the pocket watch out of his suit. "We've got a couple of hours before the Serpent King arrives. Any further orders?"

"You and Reno make sure the clockwork mechanisms are ready for use, if it comes to that. Without Reeve here, you two are the only mechanics I trust to ensure they won't backfire on us."

The Turk nodded. "Sir." He left the tent to head into the surrounding woodlands, where the others were stationed. He caught sight of his partner immediately, once he walked far enough into the hilly forest. Even in the thick underbrush, Reno was hard to miss with his vivid red, spiked hair. The long ponytail swayed with his motions as the redhead turned the crank on one of the clockwork weapons created by Reeve Tuesti. More reliable than artillery of the standard variety and less explosive, the clockwork launchers were nonetheless prone to failure, if not maintained properly.

"How does it look, Red?" The bald man came up beside the structure, and he nodded at the petite brunet Turk waiting beside it. Cissnei nodded back, her hair pulled back into a ponytail to help manage with the heat of the late summer climate.

"This one's ready to go," answered Reno. He stepped away and wiped his hands on his pants. "I guess we'd better check the other three, huh?"

Rude nodded. "President's orders."

"Got it. Baby, can you keep an eye on this one?" He looked at the young woman beside him.

"Of course," agreed Cissnei. She gave Reno a kiss on the face, just below one of the red, crescent shaped tattoos decorating his angular cheekbones. "Don't get cocky, okay? I don't want to end up picking up pieces of you all over the forest."

"I never get cocky." He winked at her and gave her a familiar pat on her suit-clad bottom, before leaving with Rude to inspect the other machines.

"Hey Rude," said the redhead in a low voice as they traipsed through the undergrowth.

"Yeah?"

"You know I'm all for ballsy moves, but don't you think this one might be a little _too_ risky?"

The big man shrugged, and he adjusted the round shades covering his eyes. "That's what the contingency plan is for, partner."

"I guess so."

Rude glanced at him. "We'll keep it under control. We're—"

"Turks," finished Reno for him. "Yeah, yeah. We ain't immortal, though."

"But we're survivors."

Reno nodded in agreement with that, putting aside the rest of his misgivings in favor of making sure everything was prepped and ready to go.

* * *

The ceremony was held outside the palace, in the courtyard. It was the harvest moon, so a feast of celebration was to take place afterwards. An ox was slaughtered for the occasion and the meal was prepared while the brief initiation ceremony commenced. Angeal walked between the warriors lining the pathway up to the canopy seat that Genesis sat upon. Two warrior maidens flanked the Pharaoh, their dusky skin shining in the torch light and their lean, toned bodies dressed in traditional armor. Strapped to Angeal's back was the sword custom made for him—a gift from the great Pharaoh himself. He'd been groomed well for the occasion, allowed to retain some facial hair on his chin and jaw, but shaved smooth elsewhere.

Watching participants whispered behind their hands as the powerful Banoran slave approached their ruler, the light of the full, yellow moon and the torches highlighting his handsome features. He was dressed in ceremonial garb for the occasion; a high quality skirt, good sandals and instead of slave manacles; he wore hammered silver bracelets on each wrist. A silver armlet hugged his left bicep, set with lapis lazuli to match the collar around his throat.

Everyone knew that the Pharaoh had taken a personal liking to him, and watching him approach the fountain where Genesis waited, few could blame him. Only those chosen specifically by the Pharaoh to eventually become one of the honor guard were granted a ceremony like this, upon initiation. Angeal's muscles rippled as he walked, subtly reminding onlookers of his great strength. His skin had been oiled for the occasion, and the sheen served to highlight his powerful physique. It was easy to imagine such a man pleasing the Pharaoh in his bedchambers, and young women giggled behind their hands at the thought of what they got up to.

"Look at the way the Pharaoh watches him," observed one girl in a whisper to her sister. She sighed.

"I'm watching him too," ensured the sister, her gaze fixated on Angeal's broad back. His dark hair had grown a bit long, and it now fell below his shoulders in the back.

"Who do you think is more handsome? I think our Pharaoh is."

The second sister shrugged. "I have never seen his face without the mask, so I cannot say. His slave is the one I would choose."

"But look at the size of that _sword_! How does he even lift it?"

"Quiet, you two," muttered their brother as the ceremonial drums slowed and stopped. The girls wisely followed his advice, as did the rest of the assembly. Small occasion or not, every even the Pharaoh hosted was to be treated with respect.

Genesis stood up as Angeal approached him and drew the long, thick blade strapped to his back. The Banoran knelt at the Pharaoh's feet and he offered the sword to him, bowing his head.

"My blade is yours, Pharaoh," said Angeal softly, reciting the pledge as he'd been taught, "As are the hands that wields it, and the heart that beats in my chest. I am your instrument, and I will serve with my brothers and sisters to protect your kingdom."

Genesis took the blade and he stared at it as he lifted it experimentally, pointing it upwards. His mouth twitched for a brief second, before he spoke an arcane phrase and caressed the length of the metal with his free palm, in the manner of a lover. The sword glowed red for a moment, before cooling.

"Rise, Angeal."

The Banoran obeyed, and Genesis handed the weapon back over to him. His wing came out, spreading wide in an impressive black span. He reached for the dagger sheathed at his hip, and his aqua gaze held Angeal's.

"Hold your sword hand out to me."

Angeal replaced his sword at his back and he obeyed, staring into the Pharaoh's eyes with something a bit more intense than the standard variety of devotion and worship. He didn't resist or flinch when Genesis made a shallow cut in his right palm. The Pharaoh guided Angeal to turn and face the assembly, lifting his bleeding palm up for all to see.

"Angeal Hewley is now one of this kingdom's protectors." Genesis bade his Banoran to keep his hand held palm up, while he cut his own palm. He clasped his bleeding hand over Angeal's, allowing their blood to mingle.

"By my blood," announced the seraph, addressing the watching militia. "This man is now a brother in arms. Honor him. Teach him. Prepare him to earn his glory amongst your ranks."

The watching warriors of both genders thumped their spears on the ground and called out in long, ululating cries. The civilians called out as well, and the blood trickled between Genesis and Angeal's clasped hands, until the Pharaoh was satisfied that enough had mingled. Asim hurried over when Genesis released Angeal's hand, and he wiped off the blood before the Pharaoh cast another spell that lit his hands up with green energy and healed both their wounds.

"Now," Genesis said in satisfaction. "Enjoy the harvest moon festivities. This is a night of celebration."

* * *

Angeal felt an odd sense of intoxication, and it wasn't just from the mead he drank while the festivities went on. He kept feeling Genesis' eyes on him, and he could barely concentrate on selecting food from the banquet and holding any sort of conversation with the warriors that congratulated him.

"One of the most important things to remember," instructed a middle-aged warrior named Marcus, "Is that the Pharaoh's word is law. You pledged yourself heart, body and soul to him, Banoran. Never forget that."

Angeal glanced up at the being in question, who sat in his royal seat at the end of the table as expected of him. The aqua gaze held his across the distance, and the sensitive lips were parted. "I couldn't if I wanted to."

The dancers came out then, twirling and gyrating in a flutter of gossamer and delicate chain garments as the musicians began to play. They danced around the courtyard while the citizens enjoyed the great feast. It occurred to Angeal that these feasts were more generous than he'd first suspected. Amongst those participating in the festivities were families from poorer areas of Menephera. The amount of food at the banquet was enough to feed half the city, and Angeal had yet to see anyone starving in Menephera—slave or otherwise.

"Angeal. Drink with me?"

He was distracted by the feminine voice, and he turned to see one of the warrior maidens that had been lined up on the pathway. This one had light brown skin, blue eyes and brown hair. She held a goblet out to him, offering to share the contents. Having leaned already of the custom between warriors, he relaxed and nodded.

"Of course."

"I'm Kasmut." She smiled at him as she handed the spiced mead to him. "I came from Cosmo Canyon, when I was just a girl. My parents were killed in an earthquake and my uncle sent me here."

"As a slave?" guessed Angeal, and he took a drink from the cup and handed it back.

"No. As a farm girl, at first. I wanted to be more, though. I worked hard and trained, and I eventually earned the right to call myself a warrior maiden." She looked at Genesis who was discussing something with Asim and his other advisors. "He sees you differently than he sees us, I think."

The observation made Angeal's heart skip a beat, and he too looked at the source of his desire. Genesis was tapping his fingers on the surface of the wooden table with boredom as he listened to something his agriculture advisor was saying to him. Just watching him made Angeal's body tingle, and he felt a surge of adrenaline that he couldn't explain.

"Your eyes!"

Angeal looked at Kasmut again. "Pardon?"

"They…they glowed," she said. "Just a moment ago…like a Seraph's."

"I'm not a seraph," he assured her with a rueful smile. "I'm just a man."

"There has been some debate about that." She handed the drink back to him and watched him while he took a sip. "You're unusually strong. That weapon you've had crafted would exhaust an ordinary man with only a few passes—even one with your build."

"I don't have an answer for you," he said truthfully, passing the drink back again. "I can promise I've never grown a wing, though. The glow you thought you saw must have just been a trick of the light."

"Hmm." She said nothing more on the subject. Her gaze went to Genesis again. "It seems our Pharaoh has grown bored of politics. He's excusing himself."

Angeal looked, and sure enough, Genesis got up from the table and he walked away, exiting the courtyard quietly. His advisors looked a bit uncomfortable, but none of them went after him. Angeal watched him uncertainly, longing to go after him but aware that his newfound status only offered a certain amount of additional freedom.

"I don't think anyone would try to stop you," said Kasmut, evidently guessing the path of his thoughts by the look on his face. "Not tonight. Of course, not many would dare follow the Pharaoh when he seems to want solitude."

No, not many would dare…but Angeal wasn't one of the many.

* * *

He was breaking his oath. Every warning his parents had ever given him concerning mortals and guarding his heart from them came back to him as Genesis walked away from the festivities. He let his wing out again and he stretched it a bit as his sandaled feet crunched on the gravel path. His advisors hadn't helped. Asim got the message about pressing him on the matter of a permanent companion, but the others were aware of his attachment to Angeal now, and they of course brought up the possibility of naming him his consort.

One might wonder why they were so insistent that he take a male companion, knowing that it wouldn't result in heirs. Genesis, however, understood their reasoning, thanks to his top advisor. It wasn't about producing heirs, according to Asim. It was about keeping him satisfied, and humans were very big on companionship.

"But none of them can comprehend why I don't do such a thing," he said beneath his breath, looking up at the swollen yellow moon overhead, and the twinkle of stars surrounding it. Angeal's rejection of his gift still stung, though in his heart, he understood. Angeal valued life, even though he was prepared to take it when necessary. What Genesis did wasn't necessary, in his eyes. Perhaps he was right. Then again, Angeal had no concept of what it took to run a kingdom. Sometimes one had to be hard and ruthless, to keep order.

His feet took him toward the temple of Minerva, and he stopped at the foot of the steps. He looked up at the great temple and he admired the newly reconstructed architecture of it. Inside, in the center of a glittering pool, was a great statue of the goddess of Gaia. People came to worship there, and though legend had it that the goddess cursed him and his kind, Genesis loved her as much as the mortals in his kingdom did.

Tonight, he could find no comfort in prayers to Minerva, though. His heart and mind were troubled by his own actions and the feelings provoked by a handsome slave from Banora. Genesis passed by the temple, and he eventually came to a stop by the civic building. He started to turn around and go back, intending to retire to his chamber for the night. As he turned, he found himself facing a familiar, tall form and he frowned.

"What are you doing here?"

Angeal watched him with eyes that betrayed desire and concern at once. "I noticed you leaving and I was concerned."

"Hmph, you never play with words, do you?" Genesis sighed and he leaned against the wall of the building. "What reason do you have to be concerned, Angeal? I think I can take a walk in my own city without coming to danger, and should anything or anyone attack me, they'll regret it quickly."

"I understand that," said Angeal, stepping closer. "But you always seem so…alone. I know I was rude earlier today, and—"

"You don't need to apologize for that again," snapped Genesis. "You've already explained your feelings about the skull in every way possible. Needless to say, I don't agree with your sentiments, but I understand why you have them. I'm not angry about that."

"You're sure?" Angeal stepped even closer, until he was only a foot away. His expression was solemn in the moonlight, and his eyes were searching on him. "I didn't enjoy turning down your gift, Pharaoh."

"Why not?" demanded Genesis. "You clearly found it repulsive."

"Didn't you just say I don't need to explain that again?" Angeal smiled a little.

Genesis rolled his eyes. "You can be infuriating."

Angeal sobered. "I didn't like turning it down because it came from you…and that isn't just because you're my Pharaoh and I didn't want to offend you. It meant something, and that counts."

"What exactly did it mean to you?" Genesis warned himself to stop this now, before he weakened again and slipped further into the trap…but the damage was done.

Angeal reached out and touched his jaw with his fingertips, and then he carefully grasped the golden avian mask covering the top half of Genesis' face and he eased it up and off. "It was a gift from a lover, who acted impulsively on a desire to avenge a wrong done to me."

Genesis stared at him, hardly believing his audacity. He parted his lips to warn the human that he'd gone too far, removing his mask in public without so much as a half-assed request for permission. Angeal closed the final distance between them before he could speak, however, and his mouth covered Genesis' to muffle the incoherent sound he made in his throat. He tasted of honey mead and plums—a blend that Genesis found impossibly arousing, in combination with the scent of the oils they'd applied to his body. The Pharaoh grasped his slave's arms, his fingers sliding over the oiled skin of his biceps. Feeling the hard muscles flex proved to be distracting.

What was left of his common sense rapidly deserted him when Angeal's tongue slid into his mouth. He felt the cool stone of the building wall against his back as the bigger man pressed him against it, and pressure of his pelvis against his soon followed. Genesis moaned into Angeal's mouth and he slid his hands over his arms to his shoulders, and then down his chest. His hands got caught between their bodies as Angeal pressed full-length against him, sandwiching Genesis against the building. The work-roughened hands slid over his scantily clad body, and one of them squeezed his ass while the other burrowed into his garment to seek out his erection. Genesis likewise dragged one hand down, and he cupped Angeal between the thighs and purred in his throat at the feel of his arousal.

So much for avoiding another sexual encounter.

* * *

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 6

* * *

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

Genesis awoke to the feel of warm lips nuzzling his neck and shoulder. He mumbled sleepily and frowned in confusion as awareness returned. The hard, powerful body spooned up against him from behind served as a vivid reminder of the evening before, and all the things he'd done with his slave. He'd done it _again_, after making a promise to himself to put some emotional distance between them and get his head straightened out. First, they fornicated against the side of the building, and afterwards, Genesis brought Angeal back to his chambers. The sun was rising by the time they finally collapsed into exhausted sleep, together. He estimated it was mid-morning now, judging by the light filtering in through the lattice windows.

"Are you awake?" murmured Angeal's deep, engaging voice in his ear. His breath tickled, and his lips kissed the sensitive curve softly, giving rise to goosebumps. The big, calloused hand glided over Genesis' shoulder and arm, then down to his hip to rest there.

He almost childishly tried to pretend he was still asleep, but ignoring the human wouldn't change what they'd done together—again. Angeal's groin was pressing intimately against Genesis' backside, and the Pharaoh bit his lip and resisted the urge to rub against it.

"I'm awake," answered Genesis softly. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the chiseled face hovering over him. "How long have you been up?"

"Not very long."

Angeal looked ridiculously handsome, with his dark hair bed mussed and his morning stubble grown shadowing his jaw. Genesis was glad he hadn't let them shave all of his facial hair off. The light beard and sideburns looked good on him, and the subtle new growth made him look sensually rugged. Angeal stared back down at him, his deep blue eyes slightly reddened from lack of sleep. Genesis could relate; he felt like he had sand under his eyelids. They both needed to re-hydrate and nourish their bodies.

Angeal lowered his mouth to Genesis and kissed him with sensual, unhurried passion. The Pharaoh forgot what in sandy hells he'd been about to say, and he returned the kiss. He groaned softly as his body predictably reacted in a wanton manner, even though Angeal's touches were relatively chaste.

"I have matters to attend," said Genesis between kisses, "and you have training to do."

"I know," answered the human softly, still pressing kisses on his lips. He rubbed his hip and thigh and he pulled his mouth away to nuzzle Genesis' temple again. "I haven't forgotten my place outside these chambers, if that's what you're worried about."

"Is that so?" Genesis smiled faintly, unconsciously cuddling into the bigger man's embrace.

"I belong to you," Angeal replied simply, "I've come to accept that."

Genesis shivered in spite of himself. He'd just been lamenting his own utter loss of control whenever he bedded Angeal, and here the man was, proclaiming himself as his without so much as a flinch of hesitation. He wasn't broken—far from it, in fact. Genesis had little doubt in his mind that the moment Angeal found something objectionable, the belligerence would return with a vengeance.

No, he wasn't broken or tamed. He was...devoted. Angeal was his because he'd willingly pledged himself to be so. The collar around his neck had no bearing on that.

For a moment, Genesis struggled with that realization, confused by the thrill it gave him. He found himself stroking the hand that was sensually caressing his body, and he stared blankly at the wall. Angeal was kissing his shoulder again, and it was getting him hard, fast.

"We need to rise, bathe and eat," insisted the Pharaoh regretfully. When Angeal laid his forehead against his shoulder and sighed, Genesis smirked and patted the dark hair. "I couldn't take more of you now, anyway. I'm going to need to employ healing magic to walk upright today, as it is."

Angeal lifted his head off of his shoulder, his blue eyes earnest as they gazed down at him. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Genesis snorted. "Don't be absurd. Your vigor made me pleasantly sore, but you never 'hurt' me. You're very...masterful...about such things, Angeal. You always manage to avoid crossing the line from pleasure into pain."

Realizing he'd just referred to his lovemaking as "masterful", Genesis hastened his retreat from the bedding. He squirmed away from his companion before Angeal could stupefy him further with his touches and kisses, and he moved around the bed to his trunk. He opened it and selected two simple wraps—one for each of them—and he dropped one on the bed whilst securing the other around his waist to conceal his groin and ass.

"We'll bathe, first," he decided aloud, turning away when Angeal got out of the bed and reached for the spare wrap. He didn't trust himself to look at his nudity in full, right now. He seemed to have a never-ending thirst for the man. "I'll have the servants change the bedding and bring us clean garments to the bathhouse. We'll break our fast afterwards and—"

Genesis heard Angeal stumble behind him, and he broke off his sentence and turned to regard him. The big man had one hand on the canopy poster of the bed, bracing himself. He was frowning with concentration or discomfort—it was difficult to say which.

"What is it?" demanded Genesis, more concerned than he cared to admit.

Angeal put a hand to his forehead as he steadied himself. "It's...nothing. I just felt a moment of dizziness."

"You're most likely dehydrated," reasoned Genesis. He went to his table, where a pitcher of water sat, as always. They hadn't drank any last evening, so it was still full. Genesis poured some into one of the silver cups sitting on the table and he approached his slave, putting aside his admiration for his nudity, for the moment. "Drink. I'll dress you."

Angeal took the cup with a murmur of thanks, still holding onto the poster as he brought it to his lips and sipped. He watched Genesis with a curious expression as the Pharaoh draped the wrap around his waist.

"I didn't mean to worry you."

Genesis paused in the act of securing the garment, and then he resumed. "Don't presume too much. I've invested a lot in you, and I won't have you collapsing over something as asinine as dehydration or exhaustion."

He finished his task and stepped back, looking up at the taller man with assessment. "Perhaps I should allow you to spend the day in rest. We _did _only receive two or three hours of sleep, and you've been working hard. Exceptional strength or not, your mortal body requires more rest."

Angeal grimaced, lowering his gaze. "Whatever you think is best, Pharaoh."

Sensing displeasure, Genesis restrained a smile. "You don't want a free day to rest?"

Angeal shrugged, raising his gaze from the floor to look Genesis in the eye again. "I'd rather practice my sword skills."

Genesis ran his hands over the broad chest. "For a man who usually seems so patient and stoic, you seem to be in a hurry to complete your training."

"I just want to earn my place in the honor guard," he answered. "I was born to serve in the military. It's something to look forward to."

The Pharaoh nodded, approving of his attitude. "Very well, if you're determined to make this a work day, I won't forbid it. If you still feel dizzy after eating, I may send for a physician to look at you, however."

Angeal nodded in consent, having no other choice.

* * *

Once again, Genesis was stuck lamenting the fact that he had to allow his favorite to leave his palace and go about his duties. Angeal insisted that he was feeling fine after they had a light breakfast, so Genesis sent for a chariot to take him to the arena for his daily training. He was just preparing to announce the royal court in session for the day, when Asim came hurrying into the council chamber, his sandals slapping against the polished stone floor.

"Pharaoh! My Pharaoh! I have urgent news from the east!" The dark-skinned advisor bowed before the lounging Seraph, breathless with anxiety.

Genesis sighed, barely resisting the impulse to rub his eyes and thus smear the kohl lining them. He shouldn't have even bothered with ceremonial decorum, today. "Calm down, Asim, before you give yourself a nosebleed."

"I apologize if I offend, but this is an emergency!"

Genesis straightened up in his throne and he frowned at the royal advisor, disliking the uncommonly panicked tone of his voice and the expression on his face. The other advisors present were looking worried, and Genesis was in no mood to deal with a pack of hysterical mortals, today. "What is this about?"

"The Serpent King," answered Asim. "He's been captured, along with his royal advisor."

Genesis stared at the man, as did everyone else in the room. The only word that came to mind for him at that moment was a crude mash-up that he'd often heard Zackary use to express disbelief.

"Bullshit."

* * *

With the news of Sephiroth's alleged kidnapping, Genesis dismissed the court and he went to the communications chamber in his palace. The news had come from Zack, according to Asim. Genesis knew the Wolf Lord was visiting Sephiroth this week for some reason, and he could only imagine what sort of half-witted plot Zack must be concocting over this situation.

One of Sephiroth's royal advisors responded to the enchanted device, and upon seeing the Pharaoh himself looking out at him through the large crystal sphere, he hastily bowed and told someone to fetch the Wolf Lord, while he explained what he knew of the situation to Genesis.

"It was a diplomatic audience, Pharaoh," said the advisor. "Our king arranged a meeting with the president of ShinRa in neutral territory, to negotiate for the release of a prisoner they were holding."

"What prisoner?" demanded Genesis with a frown. He knew for a fact that Lazard was at Sephiroth's side before this occurred, and he couldn't imagine anyone else Sephiroth would bother negotiating for—except perhaps for that water maiden Zack was in love with.

"I do not know," answered the advisor. "She was a foreign girl. The Wolf Lord requested our king's aid in procuring her release."

Genesis sighed, coming to his own conclusion based on Zack's amorous reputation. "Another of the Wolf Lord's conquests, no doubt. I always knew his appetites would land one of the three of us in trouble, if not him."

"Hey, it's not like that!" Zack's voice cut in from the background before Sephiroth's advisor could answer. The servant turned and bowed, before moving aside for Zack to approach the sphere. The Wolf Lord's attractive, anxious face replaced the advisor's. He looked like a pup expecting a kick—practically cringing. "I organized this for a friend, okay? The girl's name is Tifa, and she was taken from Nibelheim by ShinRa as ransom, to make them agree to join them."

Genesis frowned. "That seems like a lot of trouble, for one small town on another continent. President Shinra would have done better having Wutai send an emissary to negotiate for allegiance."

"I get the feeling Tseng wouldn't go for it, since his idea of 'negotiation' was to kidnap a girl."

Genesis smirked. "He's burning his own bridges, with his actions. So tell me, Zackary; how _exactly_ does a seraph as powerful as Sephiroth manage to get captured by humans? ShinRa couldn't have had an entire army waiting for him...he would have spotted it before he arrived. Mortal magic isn't powerful enough to hide numbers like that completely, and I doubt their technology could cloak them, either."

"I dunno, man," Zack sighed, slipping further into his odd human slang in his frustration. He combed his fingers through his sooty spikes and he gave Genesis a pleading look through the communication sphere. "What are we going to do? I'm not wild about the idea of going to all-out war with them."

"No, not right away, at least," agreed Genesis. He tapped a finger against his bottom lip in thought, eyes narrowed. "We would need to bolster the armies and formulate some kind of strategy...not rush in blind, hacking wildly. Clearly, Shinra has some advantage at their disposal that we weren't aware of."

"Yeah, they've _got_ to, if they managed to nab Seph."

"That isn't the appropriate way to refer to him, in front of lessers," reminded Genesis with a disapproving scowl.

Zack sighed. "Fine. The almighty King snake. I'm a little too worried about him right now to care about being proper, okay? This is all my fault."

"Yes, it is." Genesis sighed again at the crestfallen expression on the younger seraph's face. "But as always, I'm sure your heart was in the right place. This is what comes of caring too deeply for these creatures, Zackary. Protect your subjects, be kind to them if you will, but you have _got_ to stop loving them so much."

"Stop calling them 'creatures'." Now Zack was the one scowling in disapproval. "They're people, and they aren't that different from us."

"I'm not going to waste time arguing with you on this subject," sighed Genesis. "I'm going to arrange a journey to come to the Temple of the Ancients and discuss this matter with you and Sephiroth's high court. I want you to stay there until we've come to a decision on our first course of action."

"What about my people in Gongaga?" asked Zackary with a concerned frown. "If they'd attack Sephiroth, what's to stop them from attacking us, too?"

"I'm counting on ShinRa's self-preservation to keep them from committing so bold a move," answered Genesis with confidence. "Ambushing a single Seraph with only a small honor guard is far different from attacking an entire kingdom. We'll send word out to all surrounding territories about this, first and foremost. Everyone will know of ShinRa's treachery and they'll find it more difficult than they imagine to encroach on us."

Zack nodded. "Okay. I'm still worried about Gongaga, though. We're more open than you guys are."

"No shit." In his frustration, Genesis was lapsing into the human slang as well. "That's your own fault, Zackary. We have time, though. We'll strive to come to a resolution in this quickly, so you can return to your flock and make whatever defensive preparations you need to make. If it comes to it, you can migrate your people into Menephera for protection."

"You'd let me do that?"

Genesis gave him an impatient look. "As foolish as you can be at times, Zackary, you're my 'brother', and one of the last three Seraphim left on Gaia. I have no desire to see your kingdom fall."

Zack flushed with embarrassment. "I'm going to fix this somehow, Gen. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't be sure to keep," advised Genesis. "This situation may not be 'fixable', but you can be assured that if anything happens to Sephiroth, ShinRa will come to regret it deeply."

* * *

_Meanwhile in Midgar:_

Rufus stared into the specialized holding chamber, where the Serpent King stared unblinkingly back at him. He had to admit, that unwavering, predatory green stare was intimidating. A shiver ran down his spine, and he imagined this must be what rodents felt like when in the presence of a snake intending to eat them.

"Vitals are normal, as far as I can attest, President."

Rufus tore his eyes off the prisoner with difficulty, and he looked at the hunched form of the man in the white lab coat. "That's satisfactory. I want him monitored at all times; not just to ensure he remains in custody, but to ensure his good health. This is an enormous risk we're taking, and I intend to keep the prisoner in good condition until the exchange is made."

"And after that?" Hojo adjusted his glasses, his beady eyes fixated on the exotic creature behind the reinforced glass.

Rufus frowned. That was the biggest dilemma in this situation; what to do with the Serpent King once the ransom was paid. He knew very well that releasing him would only result in him coming back with a vengeance to avenge the insult done to him. Perhaps permanent enslavement would be the better option. Without their ruler to inspire them, the seraph's followers would eventually lose ground to ShinRa and it was quite possible that they could take back the continent...even if they couldn't breach that damned ziggurat on the small continent immediately to the south-west.

The thought of what Sephiroth could do if released was a sobering one. They only managed to capture him to begin with because they'd managed to get to Lazard while the fight was happening. Threatening his life was enough to make Sephiroth stand down, and they now had Lazard in a separate cell with a camera monitor in place. The black-and white monitor they had placed in the seraph's holding cell provided him with live coverage of his royal advisor's condition. Rufus was just thankful that he'd guessed correctly about the true nature of his back-stabbing half-brother's relationship with the Serpent King.

"We can decide on that once negotiations are complete," said Rufus at last. "There's no need to rush this."

Hojo nodded. "While we have him alive and in our custody, I would like to perform some tests."

"What sort of tests?" Rufus regarded the scientist with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Hojo's test subjects often ended up worse for the experience, and he was sure that if the seraph came to abuse while under his custody, it would only provoke attack from the other two seraphs. They couldn't risk that before they were ready to deal with it.

"We know very little about these creatures, President," reminded the older man. "My colleagues and I could provide important details about their anatomy, strengths and weaknesses, if you allow us to take samples and examine them in the lab."

Rufus looked back at the prisoner again, and he felt another shiver. Those serpentine eyes still hadn't left him. The seraph stood motionless in the center of his holding cell, his flowing silver hair falling down his back and his fine-boned face like carved marble. The president knew that the creature could strike with lightning speed, with no warning. The wing wasn't present right now, and Sephiroth stood on two legs rather than the monstrous snake tail his lower body had morphed into during the struggle to capture him.

_That_ had been quite a shock. Everything was going according to plan until the unexpected mutation manifested. They were all aware that the seraphs had single black wings they could manifest at will, but none of them were expecting Sephiroth to turn into a naga. Such creatures were thought to be nothing more than myths, until that moment. Rufus had expected to lose some people in the ambush and the Serpent King hadn't disappointed him.

He'd sliced two of his people completely in half with that long, singing blade of his before they even got the chance to close in on him. While the Turks kept Sephiroth's people busy, the military moved in with nets and attempted to surround the angered seraph and his royal advisor. Lazard was a surprisingly good shot with a pistol, and he took out two more before the nets were cast.

After that, it went from bad to worse. The seraph's form changed right before their eyes, the legs fusing together and elongating into that enormous, Black/green snake's tail. He sliced through the netting with his sword and his tail slammed into Rude, just as the bald Turk was closing in with the tranquilizer rifle. Rude flew backwards from the force of the blow, knocking over his shouting, redheaded partner and spoiling his aim, too. Sephiroth's tail coiled around one of the army marksmen, wrapping round and round his body while the seraph cut down to more attackers with his sword. There was a sickening crunch as the coils constricted around the hapless man, crushing the life out of him the way a python crushes the life from its prey.

It was Rufus who finally evened the score. He saw an opening and he took it, firing his tranquilizer not at the Serpent King, but at the blond man fighting by his side. Lazard went down while Sephiroth's back was turned, and Rufus closed in and put his regular pistol at his unconscious half-brother's temple, calling out to the seraph to get his attention.

He'd never felt so much hatred in a gaze before as Sephiroth paused and saw what he was doing. He recalled his own words vividly, and he was frankly amazed that he'd managed to keep such an even tone as he issued his warning.

_"If you think I won't pull the trigger because he's my half-sibling, you're direly mistaken. Surrender now, or your advisor's life will come to an abrupt end."_

That was how they'd managed to capture him, in the end. In a rare moment of humbleness, Rufus admitted to himself that the Serpent King would have probably cut them all down in the end, if he hadn't managed to use Lazard as leverage. His half-brother was probably the only thing truly keeping the seraph in check now, as well. He couldn't be certain the prison Reeve had designed to hold such creatures would actually succeed, if Sephiroth decided to try and break free of it. They'd had no way to test it, before now.

"President? Do I have your consent?"

Rufus shook himself out of it, remembering that he and the guards weren't the only ones in the observation room. "If we can get his cooperation without damaging him overly, I'll permit you to take some blood, hair and tissue samples." He smirked without humor at the scientist. "Good luck, with that."

* * *

_In Junon:_

Vincent looked up with surprise when his door banged open, but he relaxed when he saw that it was Reeve. The tense expression on the handsome features gave him pause, and he put down the quill he was writing with and stared up at the engineer. Reeve came to a stop before the dark wood desk and he placed his hands on it, bending over a bit and bowing his head as he gathered his thoughts.

"They've caught the Serpent King."

Vincent's dark brows lowered over his heterochromatic eyes, his anger gathering like storm clouds. "Impossible."

Reeve looked up and met his gaze, shaking his head. "Not really. Seraphim might be ageless and more powerful than ten humans combined, but you aren't infallible. It seems Rufus got creative. He turned the Serpent King's one weakness against him. They have him in custody now, in Midgar."

Vincent stood up slowly, his pale hands curling into fists and his eyes aglow behind the round shades he wore. "That fool. His ambition has become too far reaching, Reeve. This is an outrage."

Reeve appeared faintly confused, and he absently wiped at the oil smudge on his face and removed the safety goggles from their perch on his head. "I agree it was a...well, forgive me, but it was a brilliant move, if you look at what he could stand to gain by it. Still, it's insane. What I'm not understanding is your anger, however. If this goes sour on Rufus, it could work in your favor."

"Yes, it could," agreed Vincent, "or it could plunge the kingdoms into a pit of chaos that humanity can never climb out of, again."

"Interesting choice of words," muttered the engineer. Vincent's leathery wings had come out, and he observed how they flexed with agitation. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Maybe I'm overstepping myself—"

"That rarely stops you from speaking your mind."

Reeve smirked, and he cleared his throat. "As I was saying; maybe I'm overstepping myself, but I can't help but notice you seem to have taken this news a bit personally. You almost seem...insulted."

Vincent shrugged. "A seraph has been lured and captured by humans. By nature, we would generally prefer death over enslavement."

Used to a bit of arrogance from him, Reeve didn't seem entirely convinced of his excuse. "Do you have a personal relationship with this seraph, Vincent?"

The sculpted face was impassive as Vincent responded. "Not at all. I simply think that Rufus Shinra is crossing the line from bold into reckless. Don't forget why you and I have allied, Reeve. Events like this aren't going to improve anyone's quality of living."

"True," agreed Reeve, "but again, think of how this could work in our favor, if it doesn't blow up the way you fear."

"And what will we lose in the end, even if it works to our advantage?"

Reeve lowered his gaze and sighed. "Point taken."

"Reeve, I think we should take this matter into our own hands. Or rather, _you_ should."

The engineer frowned and looked at him with surprised brown eyes. "What do you want me to do _now_?"

"Something I can't do, without drawing attention to and exposing myself."

"You can expose yourself anytime you—"

"Now isn't the time for puns," sighed Vincent.

Reeve cleared his throat again. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"We could correct this situation, before too much blood is shed," continued Vincent.

"You keep using that word 'we'," observed the engineer, his dark eyes twinkling a bit to betray the teasing behind his words, "yet you've made it clear that I'll be the one to do whatever it is you're planning."

"Are you going to listen, or shall we flirt in code while the world burns?"

Chagrined, the human nodded. "Again, I apologize. I seem to have a bad habit of trying to lighten your dark moods. Please, go on."

"Are you certain you're finished?"

Reeve nodded again, making a polite gesture. "The floor is yours."

"We need to free the Serpent King, and return him to his people."

Reeve stared at him. "Free the...okay, let me just take a moment..." He turned and walked a circle before the desk, his thick work boots clumping on the wooden floor as he dragged his fingers through his tumbled, chestnut hair. He looked at Vincent again after a moment, his lips frowning.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?"

Vincent raised his brows in an elegant gesture of interest. "You continue to speak to me in a manner that most men wouldn't dare."

"That's because I can get away with it," muttered Reeve. "Now answer my question. Are you stark, raving mad, or are you just trying to think up a way to be rid of me?"

"If I wanted to be rid of you, I'd simply kill you myself."

Vincent let that sobering declaration sink in, and he almost smirked at the sudden pallor of his companion's face. He soothed him with a reassurance. "I have no desire to lose you, however." He walked around to the other side of the desk, and he reached out to caress Reeve's bearded jaw in the manner of a lover. "You're resourceful. I ask you to do this because I trust you to act in my stead, until the time is right for me to reveal myself. There is no-one else I can count on, Reeve."

The engineer sighed. "And I'm a sucker for...this." He covered Vincent's hand with his. "You're devious."

The sensitive lips quirked, before Vincent closed the distance between their faces and gave him a soft kiss. "This is important. Nobody else can infiltrate Midgar and manage this. Will you do it?"

"I may need more convincing than a chaste little kiss," insisted Reeve with a suggestive leer.

It was on the tip of Vincent's tongue to inform him that there wasn't time for lovemaking, but he rethought his position when Reeve cupped the back of his head and drew him in for another kiss. He smelled like machinery and oil...and Vincent didn't mind that one bit. Confident that he could explain the gist of his idea and Reeve would naturally flesh out the details himself, Vincent put aside his concerns to give him the payment he desired.

* * *

Genesis checked in on Angeal briefly before leaving for the woodlands to meet up with Zack and the Temple council. The big man had defeated five opponents when he arrived at the arena, and he smirked with quiet pride when the taskmaster reported to him.

"He's tireless, my Pharaoh. I've never seen the like."

Genesis nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Angeal take a seat at one of the shaded benches and wipe the sweat from his face and neck with a cloth provided to him. "Good. See to it that he gets a good meal, tonight. I can't predict how many days I'll be away, but you know what my expectations are."

The taskmaster nodded in understanding and bowed. "Highness, I believe he'll be fit for promotion within a month, if not sooner. You have made a wise choice."

Genesis' gaze lingered on Angeal again, unconsciously caressing his form. "I know."

Now, if he could only stop thinking of other things that body was capable of doing, besides battle. To take his mind off of it before he began openly ravishing the man with his eyes and revealing how weak he was against his...assets...Genesis turned to Asim. "You'll be in charge of court and military affairs, while I'm away. I want a curfew put in place, and no citizen of Menephera is to be allowed outside city boundaries until we've resolved this situation. I want all surrounding communities monitored and should there be _any_ sign of Wutai or ShinRa hostility, mobilize the military for defense and contact me immediately."

Asim nodded respectfully. "Of course, Pharaoh. I will guard the kingdom with my life."

Having no doubt of his sincerity, Genesis allowed a brief smile. Asim was one of the few advisors he genuinely liked, though he trusted them all, after all this time. "I know you won't disappoint me."

He looked at Angeal again, enjoying the view for a moment before moving on. The Banoran happened to glance up as he sipped from the cup of water he'd been given, and his gaze met Genesis' across the distance. For an instant, Genesis could have sworn those eyes flashed in a manner he would normally associate with his own and his fellow seraphim. It was over as quickly as it happened, leaving him wondering if he was again imagining things. Perhaps his attraction to Angeal kept playing tricks on him, making him see things he secretly wanted to see, because he couldn't reconcile the feelings he dared not name.

Genesis found himself giving Angeal a little nod of acknowledgement, and the big man's face softened as he nodded back. The simple exchange made that annoying, funny feeling return to Genesis' gut, and he turned away and manifested his wing. He could sort out his fool heart later. There were more dire things to concern himself with, now.

* * *

During the council meeting at the Temple of Ancients, they learned through Sephiroth's advisors that Rufus ShinRa was demanding a ransom be paid. The information succeeded in pissing off Zack, where few other things could. The dark-haired seraph growled in his throat like the beast he was capable of transforming into, and Genesis popped him on the back of the head to settle him down. Zack rubbed the spot and glared sullenly at him, like a disciplined mutt.

"That's an extravagant amount of gil to ask for," mused Genesis, the picture of calm, if it weren't for the glow in his eyes. "Even for a king."

"I imagine they believe we can afford it, Pharaoh," said one of Sephiroth's advisors with a bow. He looked around at his fellow court members. "We happen to be of the mind that we should pay it. One could argue that this ransom is for both the Serpent King and Advisor Deusericus. ShinRa knows the importance of these prisoners."

"And you trust them to simply hand them over, once this ransom is delivered?" Genesis pressed. "Did the Serpent King employ your council for its wisdom? I'm having difficulty seeing it."

"Burn," muttered Zack with a grin, evidently forgetting his own umbrage as the council members squirmed under Genesis' verbal lashing.

"What would you suggest, Pharaoh?" The advisor was careful to keep a respectful tone with him.

"Surely, your king has people within ShinRa territory that could gather information," persisted Genesis. "Even if it's through a network of rumors. In addition, we need proof that the Serpent King and Advisor Deusericus are both unharmed. I'm still finding it hard to believe that Sephiroth fell to their treachery without an injury to show for it."

"Yeah, he's the strongest of any of us," agreed Zack.

"I didn't say _that_," corrected Genesis peevishly, "but yes, Sephiroth is no weakling. He wouldn't have allowed himself to be captured easily."

"Then they must have used his advisor against him," reasoned Zack with a shrug. "I know if someone threatened Aerith or Cloud, I'd drop my sword."

Genesis thought on that, and he nodded. "Yes, the two of you share a weakness for your human associates."

Zack compressed his lips. "Oh yeah? I've heard about this guy from Banora you've been—"

"Leave us," Genesis commanded immediately, before the younger seraph could finish his sentence. Nobody dared argue with him. The advisors filed out of the council room, leaving the two of them alone. Genesis turned to Zack, his gaze cold. "Put aside your suppositions, Zackary. I'm not going to get into a debate with you on the matter of appropriate feelings for mortals. Yes, I occasionally enjoy Angeal's body and I grant him certain privileges because he pleases me in many ways, but—"

"Sounds like you're debating to me," observed Zack with a mischievous smirk and a wink, "or at least, you're trying to make excuses so you don't sound smitten."

His expression changed again, as if something just dawned on him. "Wait a minute...did you say 'Angeal'?"

Genesis nodded. "Yes. What of it?"

"His last name wouldn't happen to be 'Hewley', would it?"

Genesis frowned at him. "How do you know that?"

"Holy shit!" Zack laughed, as if he found the information to be the best thing he'd heard all day. "I've met him. He helped me hone my swordfighting skills, too. Damned good fighter."

Genesis blinked, unable to contain his confusion. "How? When?"

"A couple of years ago," answered Zack. "You remember when you and Seph told me I should get out and see the world a little...find my own style?"

"I remember encouraging you to educate yourself on the workings of human politics, and take things more seriously," corrected Genesis, still baffled. "As did Sephiroth. Do you mean to tell me you ended up in Banora?"

Zack nodded. "Well, I remembered you saying you grew up there—"

"I was born there," reminded Genesis. "I didn't 'grow up' there."

"Whatever. So I thought about those apple orchards you mentioned, and I thought it would be cool to see them, since they don't grow anywhere else. First place I checked out was Banora. Angeal was one of the first people to greet me. Well, he didn't exactly _greet_ me. He saw me picking one of the apples and he told me to put it down. I thought we were going to have a fight, but then I told him where I was from and why I was there, and we started talking, and he showed me around and—"

"Zack..." Genesis held his hands out, trying to slow him down.

"—he introduced me to his parents and he asked me what life was like as a seraph, and he asked if we had any plans of taking over Banora and I told him we didn't, so—"

"Wait—"

Zack went on as if he hadn't heard...too excited by the coincidence to shut his trap and listen. "—he asked if I wanted to learn more about the town and the orchards, and I decided to hang around Banora for a while. Remember, Gen? I was gone for about a year."

"Yes, I remember," answered the redhead with some confusion, trying to keep up with the sudden rush of information. "You were—"

"I was training with Angeal!" Zack nodded enthusiastically.

Genesis bit back an impatient sigh. "Why didn't you ask one of us to help you?"

Zack shrugged. "It seemed like you wanted me to figure it out on my own, so I did. Angeal helped me. How did he end up as your slave, anyway? You're not abusing him, are you?"

At Genesis' glare, the brunet reconsidered his question. "Nah, according to Seph, you're head-over-heels for the guy. Wow, Genesis, I had _no_ idea Angeal was your guy! When Sephiroth said he was from Banora, I just never made the connection! So how's he doing? Are you going to keep him as a slave forever, or do you think you'll let him go? You should let him serve on your honor guard. I guess you already know by now that he's damned good with—"

"Zackary!" Genesis shouted the name, his voice bouncing off the marbled walls of the council chamber.

Zack's babbling ended with a startled yelp. He tilted his head inquisitively, in that way that always managed to endear people to him regardless of how irritating he was being. Genesis sighed, asking the goddess for patience. "I'll answer your questions quickly, and then we need to move on. No, I'm most certainly not 'abusing' Angeal. In fact, I recently had a planter made from the skull of a taskmaster that dared to whip him within an inch of his life—which Angeal subsequently refused as a gift, I might add. Yes, I'm elevating him to my honor guard and yes, I'm aware of how good he is in the arena. No, I have no plans to release him."

Genesis frowned, his thoughts going to certain other aspects of Angeal's persona. Procrastinating for a moment longer on getting back to business, he decided to ask his fellow seraph about it. "Zackary, while we're on the subject...while you knew Angeal, did you ever notice anything exceptional about him? I mean, unusual for a human."

"Uh, I never looked that close," answered Zack. When Genesis glared at him, he laughed. "Okay, I get it. Don't get mad. If you're talking about that mad strength of his, I hear you."

"Yes, that's exactly what I was talking about. So, it was there before he came to me, then."

Zack shrugged. "Yeah, he was super strong when I met him, too. He said he never knew his real parents, just like me and Seph. I just figured he got lucky with genetics and left it as that, since he's not a seraph."

"Hmm." Genesis considered the observation and nodded. "That seems our only explanation."

Unless he wanted to allow his physicians to start running tests on Angeal, and he simply refused to do that. He sighed pensively and he shook himself out of it, yet again. "Let's discuss the options open to us, Zackary. We can talk about Angeal later, after we've arrived on a plan of action."

Zack nodded, sobering. "Sounds like a plan to me. ShinRa is going to bleed for this, if they've hurt Sephiroth or Lazard."

"My first suggestion is that we demand some proof of their survival and condition, before we even begin to negotiate," suggested Genesis. "And after what they've done, _nobody_ is to agree to another meeting without a full regiment. This occurred because you're too trusting and Sephiroth underestimated ShinRa. A simple entourage won't do, if another audience is to be held with this slippery piece of filth."

Genesis clenched his jaw and clamped down on the last comment, reigning in his temper. The sheer _audacity_ of these humans drove him to distraction and made it difficult for him to maintain control. He unwittingly imagined himself ranting to Angeal, while the big man listened patiently and stroked his hair. He blushed.

"Whoa, what's that all about?"

Genesis looked at his companion. "Pardon me?" He willed his cheeks to cool.

"You're blushing." Zack grinned. "Like a pretty girl. Let me guess...you're thinking Angeal should be part of the regiment...and thinking of him made you get all smushy like—"

"If you value your tongue," interrupted Genesis dangerously, "you'll curb it before you finish that sentence."

Zack wisely shut up—for once—but his blue-violet eyes twinkled knowingly as they finished their discussion.

* * *

ShinRa supplied the proof that they asked for, in the form of a video feed sent via a new messenger. The first was still in holding for interrogation. Genesis, Zack and the council watched grimly as the messenger played the recording for them on the gold-layered monitor device. The first clip showed Sephiroth pacing in what appeared to be a glass, bar-reinforced cell. The second showed a rather bruised Lazard lying on a bunk in a separate cell.

"This isn't enough," Genesis stated, before Zack could speak up. "I want to speak with them."

The messenger nodded. "The President thought you might say as much. They are about to bring a phone in to Deusericus. Here...I have one for you, Pharaoh."

The messenger opened the case he'd brought with him—which had been inspected by the guards before he was allowed to bring it into the clearing, a few kilometers away from the ziggurat. He produced a strange, copper colored device from within it, and he flipped it open, pressed a few buttons and offered it over to Genesis. The seraph took it warily, staring at it for a moment before putting it to his ear as advised.

"It's a phone," Zack said, recognizing the mechanism, "but I've gotta admit, I've never seen one without a cord, before."

He drew his sword and his expression was unusually grim as he stared down the messenger. He nodded at Genesis. "If that thing explodes on him, I'm cutting you down."

The messenger nodded, hardly surprised. "Of course. I'm unarmed. I'm only here to relay the information and help to procure a suitable agreement. They won't allow the Serpent King to speak, because the last guard that entered his chamber met...an unfortunate end."

Genesis smirked. "As it should be."

There must have been some delay in the video feed, because Genesis heard Lazard's voice before he saw the guard enter his room on the unstable feed. Random moments of static blurred the colorless image, but he could make out Lazard getting off of his bunk as two armed, uniformed men entered his cell. They handed him a similar device to the one Genesis held, but before he put it to his ear, his voice came through.

"This is Deusericus," he said in a hoarse voice, as though he'd been yelling. The Lazard on the screen finally spoke into the device, his expression wary on the guards.

Genesis didn't mince words. "What have they done with your master?"

There was a moment's hesitation and some static, before Lazard answered. "He's being held in another cell," answered the royal advisor. "They allowed me to see him briefly, Pharaoh. He's all right."

Genesis nodded, his gaze flicking between the screen and the man that had brought it. "I see. There have been no signs of abuse?"

"None. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that he's furious, however."

Genesis smirked again. "No need. What have you told them?"

"Absolutely _nothing_ Pharaoh." Lazard's voice was vehement. "And I'll die before my tongue loosens one bit."

Seeing the resolve on Lazard's aristocratically handsome face in the video image, Genesis could believe it. If nothing else, the man loved Sephiroth. "Your loyalty is appreciated. I trust it won't waver."

"Not a chance," insisted Lazard.

Satisfied, Genesis handed the device back to the messenger. He gave Zackary a nod when the Wolf Lord looked at him questioningly. "We can discuss the terms of the Serpent King's release, now."

* * *

"This is all my fault," Zack sighed morosely, roughly a half an hour later when he joined Aerith and Cloud in his guest chambers.

Cloud shook his head and frowned at him. "No, it's _my_ fault. You were just trying to help me."

Aerith rubbed Zack's tense shoulders, kissing his cheek. "Blaming yourselves won't change anything, okay? Both of you, just stop it."

Zack turned his head to look at her, his hands resting on his spread knees as she sat beside him on the bed and worked to relieve the tension in his shoulders and back. "But this isn't going to end with a payload. We all know that. ShinRa isn't going to be stupid enough to let him and Lazard go, Aerith."

She sighed and lowered her gaze, biting her lip with worry.

"But...they made an agreement," Cloud insisted, his golden brows furrowing over troubled blue eyes.

Zack snorted. "If it was Tseng, I'd be willing to trust it. This is Rufus ShinRa we're talking about here, though."

"Then what do you think will happen?" Aerith questioned softly.

Zack laid a hand over one of hers and he shook his head. "I don't want to scare you, but they might execute him, after they've gotten what they're after."

Cloud shook his head. "Not even ShinRa has the balls to do that."

"Don't be so sure, kid," answered Zack with a humorless quirk of his lips. "'Rufus the Ruthless'. He didn't earn that nickname by handing out rainbows and kittens."

"But if he kills Sephiroth," reasoned Cloud, "he'll have all of you coming after him!"

"'All of us'," repeated the Wolf Lord with a grunt. "Yeah. There's just me and Genesis now, and some people in our territory might get keen on siding with their own 'kind', sooner or later. Rufus might not be any nicer than Seph or Gen, but he's one of their own."

Aerith suddenly smacked him lightly on the back of the head, making Zack flinch and stare at her with comical confusion. "Stop that," she chastised. "I won't have you talking like that, Zack. You never quit..._never_. We'll figure out something, one way or another. I have faith in you and the Pharaoh. You'll bring him back safely."

She made up for her unexpected punishment by giving him a soft, loving kiss on the mouth. Cloud looked away and nodded, agreeing with her even as he wished he could put himself in her place right now. "She's right. Don't give up on him _or_ on people's good sense, Zack. Nobody in their right mind would pick a ruler like Rufus Shinra over you, anyway."

Zack smiled at him. He gently disengaged from Aerith's embrace and he got out of the bed to approach him. He cast one look over his shoulder at his lover, and when she nodded, Zack took Cloud's face in his hands and he lowered his lips to his.

The blond stood there in a blight of stupidity as Zackary's lips moved against his. He'd kissed him before, certainly, but not quite like _this._ This wasn't playful or flirty. This was slow, unhurried and passionate, all at the same time. Cloud felt himself sinking as his legs started to give out beneath him, and he wondered if he might melt into a vaguely Cloud-shaped puddle soon. The gentle probe of Zack's tongue in his mouth made his body go from a liquid to a solid in an instant—in more ways than one.

"Um," Cloud gasped against that mouth when Zack pulled away to look at him. Very aware of the boner he was now sporting—which was pressing embarrassingly against the taller man's thigh—Cloud tried to formulate words. What came out instead sounded something like "Huzzah-huh?"

Zack smiled at him. "That's for not letting me quit, Chocobo." He started kissing him again, deeper this time...until Cloud put his arms around his neck to keep himself standing upright. "And this...well...this is because my lady says I can, and because I want you."

"Oh." Cloud barely finished saying the word—or squeaking it, as the case were—before Zack was kissing him again. It lasted for several heartbeats, and Cloud swore he was going the way of the jellyfish.

"Later, though," promised Zack when he finally broke the kiss. "Right now, we've got to get ready to leave. We'll stop off at Menephera before we go back to Gongaga."

"Er...okay." Cloud wondered how his tongue was still able to move properly, after the kisses he'd just gotten. He looked uncertainly at Aerith, fully expecting to see outrage or at least disconcertment on her pretty face. Instead, he found her sporting a charming blush and a smile. "A-Aerith? Is...do you mind this?"

She shook her head, smiling at him and Zack. "No, not at all. Do you?"

There was really only one answer to that. "No."

* * *

Later, when they were getting ready to board Genesis' airship back to the desert lands, the Pharaoh noticed that Aerith was amongst the group and he frowned.

"She should stay here." Genesis nodded at Aerith meaningfully as he said it.

Zack frowned. "Come on! I can't just leave her here, with ShinRa pulling this kind of garbage!"

"She's safer here than anywhere else, Zackary."

Zack looked at Aerith with a torn expression on his handsome face, and she shook her head. "I want to come with you," she insisted, curling her fingers over his sleeveless shirt and holding onto it.

"Wouldn't she be safer where he can keep an eye on her?" Cloud suggested, sympathizing with her completely.

"In theory," answered Genesis with a nod, "but consider this: The Temple of the Ancients is completely inaccessible from the outside, if one doesn't have a keystone in their possession."

Zack's eyes widened. "Uh, Gen...they captured Sephiroth _and_ Lazard...and they've both got keystones."

The Pharaoh blinked. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I...hadn't considered that."

Zack shrugged. "You can't be expected to think of everything."

Genesis made a sound of discontent in his throat. "It doesn't really matter, though. Even if the humans can determine what it is they hold in their hands when they view the keystones, they won't work. They are attuned to the owners."

"But they've got some pretty impressive ways of getting around that sort of thing," reminded Zack. "Who knows what they can pull together, with their scientists? I mean sure, we can _assume_ the Temple is safe from invasion, but what if they figure out some way to activate those keystones without the owners?"

Genesis sighed, his gaze going to the water maiden. Sephiroth would be very put out, if anything happened to her. He had no romantic interest in the girl and he would never admit to his affection for her beyond that of a favorite pet, but Genesis was inclined to agree that something was unusual about her. It wouldn't do to risk it.

"Fine. Bring her. I insist you leave her in Menephera when you go to Gongaga, however. As we've discussed already; your 'city' isn't defensible enough, should ShinRa decide to wage an all-out surprise attack against it. If you want to keep her safe, leave her in my city."

Zack nodded in agreement, putting one arm around Aerith and the other around Cloud. "I'll leave them both with you."

"W-wait," protested Cloud.

"No arguments, Sunshine." Zack planted a smooch on Cloud's arguing lips. "If it's not safe for Aerith, then it's not safe for you, either. They caught Seph because they threatened Lazard. I'm not letting that happen with us."

Cloud sighed.

* * *

They arrived back in Menephera early the next morning, and Genesis graciously offered one of the palace suites to Zack, Cloud and Aerith—seeing as the three of them were apparently "together" now. Part of him wanted to know exactly how that happened, but he had other concerns on his mind, and he was tired from the journey and the stress of negotiations. It would take a few days to gather the ransom ShinRa was demanding of them—at least, that was what Genesis and Zack told the negotiators. In reality, they were buying time to plan a defense and possibly even a rescue effort.

Genesis arranged a council meeting to get reports on the events of the kingdom concerning the two days he was away, and Asim assured him that everything was going smoothly.

"Your Angeal seemed even more determined to excel, once he heard you were away for the week's end. I think he wished to impress you, upon your return."

Genesis hid a smile behind his hand. "Is that so? Well, I'll have to see a demonstration. On a more somber note, Asim, we need to prepare for the possibility of war. I think we've dealt with ShinRa antics enough in the past to agree that this isn't likely to end if and when we manage to get the Serpent King safely back to his throne."

The advisor shook his dark head, his green eyes somber. "No, Highness. He isn't likely to overlook or forget this. I can hardly believe they've dared to do this."

"Who knows what their reasoning is?" Genesis scowled. "But your observation is astute: Sephiroth isn't likely to let this go."

"Especially considering they threatened his advisor," reasoned Asim.

"It's the only way they could have gained his cooperation," agreed Genesis. "We have to keep our guard up on all borders. We must—"

His sentence was interrupted by the approach of one of the warrior maidens of his court. Kasmut approached his throne and she knelt before it, presenting her spear as was proper. "My Pharaoh, there has been an incident in the arena. Your presence is requested."

Genesis immediately thought of Angeal, and he frowned and sat up straighter. "What happened?"

"Your Banoran," she answered, lifting her eyes from the floor to regard him with worried eyes. "He collapsed in the middle of a training match. A sudden fever came upon him and—"

Genesis was up and heading out of the council chamber before she could even finish speaking.

* * *

Angeal was unconscious and on a stretcher, when Genesis arrived at the training grounds. He immediately ordered him to be transported to the palace for examination by the physicians, and he rode along with. Zack was outside talking to one of the guards on the palace steps when they arrived, and when he saw Angeal, his expression betrayed concern even behind the wolf mask.

"Angeal? Damn, I was looking forward to seeing him again, but not like this!" Zack gave Genesis an accusing look. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Move aside," Genesis snapped. "The physicians are going to see to him. All I know is that he collapsed in the middle of a sparring match."

"But _why_?" Zack demanded—stupidly. A glare from Genesis shut him up. "Hey, don't set me on fire or anything, I'm just worried. I haven't seen the guy in a long time and this isn't exactly promising."

"Then come with, and shut your mouth," suggested Genesis. "Just stay out of the way."

Zack followed him in as the stretcher bearers carried Angeal inside, their steps carrying them to the apothecary chambers.

* * *

An hour later, the lead physician had _somewhat_ of a diagnosis. He approached Genesis and left his fellow medics to see to the half-conscious slave, groaning on the table. "My Pharaoh," said the physician, "he appears to have an infection of some sort. We've found no visible injuries beyond superficial ones expected of pit fighting, and there is no evidence of snake, insect or scorpion bites."

"What about poison?" pressed Genesis, his aqua gaze going to Angeal. Beside him, Zack patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Have you tested for that?"

Understanding, the physician nodded. "Yes. I assure you, the Banoran hasn't been subjected to any detectable poisons...but if his condition doesn't improve with the antibiotic treatments and fever medications, we will consider blood cleansing methods."

Genesis nodded, taking his eyes off his stricken slave with difficulty. Cure magic wouldn't work on a malady such as this. Infections, poisons, viruses and genetic illnesses were beyond magic's ability to heal.

"Come on, Genesis," Zack urged. "Remember what you said to me about crowding them? Let's give them some space to work. Come hang out with me and Cloud and Aerith for a while."

Genesis shook his head, his mind scattered with confused feelings. "I need to hunt."

Zack exchanged a look with the physician that said they both knew better than Genesis himself what the true source of his anxiety was. "Sure...go do that."

* * *

-To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 7

* * *

He felt like he was on fire…burning from the inside out. There was a horrible ache in the right side of his back, near his shoulder blade. He tried to move, his feet sinking into the hot sand as he struggled to make out the figure up ahead. He could see the shadow of the wing sprouting from the left side of the toned, beautiful body, and he could see the glow of the aqua colored eyes watching him. The being stood on a hill, with the sun setting behind him. The sky was a brilliant orange, red and yellow glow in the dying light, and Genesis beckoned to him invitingly, spreading his massive, black wing.

"Come, Angeal. Don't keep me waiting."

Angeal renewed his efforts, desperate to be by his side for reasons he couldn't name. "G-Genesis," he gasped, his throat parched and aching for water. He managed a few faltering steps, before falling to his stomach in the punishing sand. The hot desert wind blew it into his hair and eyes, and he struggled to lift his head and look up at the Pharaoh. The gold embroidery on the ceremonial skirt Genesis wore glinted in the orange light. The woven beadwork on his collar glistened as he gestured at the fallen human again.

"Come. Don't give up now."

He tried…he really did. It seemed like all of the strength he had tried so hard to temper his entire life had deserted him entirely, leaving him as weak as a kitten. He called the seraph's name again, his cry coming out as a moan of torment as another flash of pain assaulted his back. He crawled toward him reaching out desperately. Genesis seemed to be moving further away, though his feet hadn't moved.

"Gen…esis," groaned Angeal, and then he lost consciousness completely.

* * *

Genesis kept getting the odd feeling that the wind was calling his name. He blamed it on how distracted he was, with Angeal lying in the physician chambers and Sephiroth in the custody of ShinRa. Too much had happened too fast, and he was the one everyone was looking to for answers. Zack tended to generate unique, interesting ideas, but he was still growing in his leadership role, and he had a ways to go. As the youngest of the three of them, Zackary was a bit spoiled. Genesis blamed himself and Sephiroth for that, as much as he blamed Zack. They never called him to task for his royal managerial approaches, and as a result, he wasn't as prepared as he should be to deal with dire situations like this.

After missing his second potential kill, Genesis gave up on it and he flew above the palms in the greener area of his hunting grounds. He hovered there for a moment, peering at the distant, great city on the horizon, in the heart of the desert. Perhaps the physicians would have news of Angeal's condition, by now. He saw clouds gathering in the east, coming in from the coast. Summer was nearing its end, and the rivers would swell again with the promise of the rainy season, even if most of it didn't fall directly over Menephera.

Genesis felt the promise of rain on the slightly cooler breeze coming in from the direction of the clouds, and he decided to fly back and check on his slave. He saw the lightning dancing in the clouds and he listened inwardly to the goddess, predicting that this storm would indeed be a bountiful one. In fact, any citizens that didn't stay inside once it hit stood the risk of getting struck by lightning. He would need to send criers out into the city to warn the population, before it hit.

* * *

Cloud heard the thunder, and he went to the window to peer outside. "It rains in the desert?"

Aerith came up behind him and surprised him by embracing him gently from behind. "Mm-hmm. Zack says the storms can get really fierce, too. Is this okay, Cloud? I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

He considered it, and he shook his head, blushing a little. A little hug around the waste wasn't a big deal, and it was comforting. He was so out of his element here, and Aerith stayed near him while Zack went out to help people. The Wolf Lord was restless with guilt over Sephiroth, and worry for the man named Angeal in the infirmary. Aerith suggested he get out for a while, to clear his head. Cloud didn't go for women sexually, but he really did like Aerith and her affection didn't feel romantic, to him.

"I don't mind." He laid a hand over one of the slender ones resting on his stomach. "I never knew that, about the weather here. I thought sandstorms were the only kind they get."

"According to Zack, the rain only comes during certain times of the year to this area, but it's heavy, when it does fall. It's what makes life possible for all the local plants and animals. The people here catch the rainwater to add to their stores, and they draw from the rivers that feed from the mountains, to the north. The Pharaoh uses his magic to create more water, when the stores run low."

"How does he do that?" Cloud asked. "With materia?"

"I think so," answered Aerith with a shrug. "Zack says ice magic works well, because the heat melts it directly into the reservoirs. It's really a smart way to use magic, if you think about it."

Cloud nodded. "Yeah."

They fell into companionable silence for a while, until Cloud decided he needed to say something out loud to her. "He loves you."

He felt her smile against his shoulder, and she nodded. "I love him, too."

Cloud gently disengaged from her embrace, and he turned around to look at her. Blue eyes searched green as he tried to determine if she really _was_ okay with the sort of affection Zack had started to give him.

"Are you going along with this just for him, or did you mean it when you said you don't mind?"

Aerith gave him one of those patient, gentle smiles that seemed to wrap Zack around her little finger. "I'm going along with this because Zack really likes you, and so do I. We love each other, but we have room for you, too."

Cloud gave her a tentative smile in return. "I…really like you too. I mean, not the same way as Zack, but…well, you know."

She chuckled softly and nodded. "I know. Don't worry; I won't try to convert you to girls." She gave him a playful wink. "I'm actually kind of glad you came into the picture."

"Yeah?"

She took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze as she nodded. "Yes. Zack's too much for me to handle, sometimes. Now I have someone to pass him off onto, when he wears me out and I just want to sleep."

That made Cloud smile again. "Is he really that bad?"

"He's insatiable. All Seraphim are, from what I understand. Not that I think that's a bad thing, but a girl needs her beauty sleep, too."

Cloud nodded. "I'll bet. Well, I'll try to…er…take care of him, when you need your rest."

She laughed. "You'd better." She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Come on, let's go outside and play in the rain when it comes, before it gets too nasty and we have to come back in again."

"You want to play in the rain?" Cloud found that amusing. "Aren't we a little old for that?"

"You're never too old to play," she advised sagely, her thick braid swaying as she shook her head. "Come on, Cloud! Last one out is a rotten egg!"

With the challenge issued, the water maiden turned and ran for the chamber exit, her bare feet hardly making a whisper of sound on the stone floor. The little bells lining her long, diaphanous peach skirt chimed together musically, and the beads that made up her halter rattled with her motions. As carefree as a little girl, Aerith giggled softly and ran past bemused palace guards.

Smiling in spite of himself at her antics, Cloud took up chase. No wonder Zack loved her so much. The Wolf Lord was a big kid himself in many ways, and Aerith's playful nature was the perfect compliment to that. It made Cloud wonder why Zack was interested in a quiet, reserved person like himself, but he was too grateful to have his feelings reciprocated to question it too deeply.

* * *

Genesis frowned when he returned to the palace and found Zack's two pets playing out in the first sprinkles of rain. Aerith had her head tilted back and her arms out wide, and she twirled around in circles at the base of the steps, trying to catch raindrops in her open mouth. Somehow, she had convinced her shy blond companion to join her, though Cloud appeared frankly embarrassed as he awkwardly tried to catch raindrops the same way. Shaking his head at their antics, he was about to go inside when a crack of thunder in the distance reminded him of the dangers of playing in the rain in a desert storm. Sephiroth would never forgive him if his precious water maiden got fried, and Zackary would spend the rest of his days moping.

"Humans," he muttered disdainfully under his breath. Aloud, he called out to them. "Don't stay out here for long. I won't be responsible for what happens to either of you, should you attract a bolt of lightning and end up in charred pieces, all over the steps of my palace."

Aerith stopped what she was doing and she knelt gracefully before him, her skirt spreading out around her as she dropped. "Yes, Pharaoh." She tugged on Cloud's hand meaningfully, and he dropped down in a less graceful kneel beside her. "I promise, we'll go back inside at the first sign of lightning overhead."

Genesis nodded and he retracted his wing, before going inside. He had other things to worry about, besides a pair of silly mortals trying to martyr themselves to the sky. He strode through the great hall, ignoring the servants that fell to their knees in homage. He went straight to the western wing and down the stairs, into the lower levels beneath the ground. The guards saluted him and stepped aside when he approached the chambers of healing, and when he saw him come in, the head physician hurried over to him and bowed.

"My king," he greeted, "I presume you've come to check on your Banoran?"

Genesis nodded. "Do you have anything further to report on his condition?"

The physician sighed, looking nervous and regretful. "The fever still rages in him, and he drifts in and out of consciousness. We've taken to bathing his body with chilled water to keep the temperature down. The antibiotics have done nothing, and there is no sign of infection. I'm ashamed to say that we are at a loss as to the cause for this."

"I see." Genesis looked at the examination table his slave was strapped to, and he gave a nod of approval when he saw that they'd cushioned his head in an attempt to make him more comfortable. He approached the suffering human and he gazed down at him thoughtfully. Angeal was currently passed out, and his breathing was uneven and harsh as if he felt pain even whilst unconscious.

"Do everything you can for him," insisted the Pharaoh. He impulsively reached out to stroke aside a lock of dark hair that had fallen over Angeal's left eye, and he hastily pulled his hand away when he noticed his physician watching.

"He's called out for you, Highness," informed the physician. "By your _given_ name."

The emphasis on the word 'given' called attention to the significance of it. Only the closest advisors were permitted to speak his given name aloud, and never in the company of the lower caste. It wasn't a secret to the head physician that Angeal knew the Pharaoh's name, but the meaningful look he was giving him suggested he thought it was notable that the stricken young man had cried out for him in his sleep.

Something twisted inside of Genesis; painfully, like a muscle locking up without warning. It was no physical pain, though. He looked down at his handsome champion, and he wondered what sort of fever dream or hallucination could have provoked him call out for him. Again acting on impulse, he stroked Angeal's hair. He felt the heat of fever against his fingertips when they brushed against Angeal's forehead, and he compressed his lips.

"Keep me informed of any changes to his condition."

* * *

Reeve arrived in Midgar a short time later on the same day. He nodded at people in passing when they recognized and greeted him, and his strides were even and swift with purpose. "I don't have time to answer your questions," Reeve informed the guards as he approached the big, formidable Headquarters building and they opened their mouths to say something. He lifted the pendant hanging around his neck and he turned it around to show them the ID number etched into it. "Tuesti. Head engineer. Let me pass."

They didn't argue with him, upon seeing his ID. They stepped aside for him and opened the big, reinforced doors. Reeve walked through them, his boots echoing on the tiled floors as he passed through the main hall to the guarded inner doors leading to the elevators, and fire escape. Recognizing him and assuming his ID had already been checked, the guards nodded at him and saluted crisply, allowing him to pass without contest.

Reeve stepped into one of the big elevator cars and rather than press a button for one of the upper floors in the tower, he chose one of the underground floors. Reeve leaned against the support rails against the wall as the doors shut and the elevator began its descent. He glanced up at the small lens, barely visible in the upper right corner of the car. Knowing someone was monitoring the elevator through the camera system, he avoided checking the gadgets hidden within his clothes.

The elevator stopped at floor B-6, and Reeve stepped out when the doors opened again. He had to stop and reveal his ID number yet again to the guards here, before progressing to the holding area. He wasn't surprised to find Hojo standing in the observation room of the special containment cell holding their special "guest". Reeve gave the man a distasteful look as the door closed and locked behind him, but he said nothing to him as he approached to peer into the reinforced cell.

"I had almost hoped the news I received was in error," Reeve said. Looking into the cage, he could see that it wasn't. His eyebrows went up with surprise he couldn't disguise when he saw the condition of the prisoner. At first, he thought the Serpent King was pacing back and forth in the cell—which was perfectly understandable, given his situation. As he approached the window and got a full look at him, he nearly dropped the transmitter phone he'd gotten out of his pocket.

"I thought _that_ was an exaggeration, too," Reeve said, awed. No wonder the seraph seemed to be moving so un-naturally smoothly, like he was floating. He wasn't _walking_ at all...he was slithering—or at least, as much as his confinement could allow. There was a massive serpent tail coiled around the circumference of the room, taking up most of the floor space. Reeve thought it was black, at first, but where the fluorescent lights overhead shone on it, he could see hints of deep emerald.

"He's part snake," Reeve said dumbly.

"Yes, we gathered as much," Hojo said, coming up beside him. The scientist was gazing at the captive with an unwholesome obsession. He removed his little square glasses and polished them absently with the sleeve of his lab coat. "He's magnificent, don't you think?"

Reeve stared at the professor—whose eyes still hadn't left Sephiroth. It wasn't sexual, this fixation. It was almost like bloodlust, and the engineer could easily imagine Hojo having an orgasm over the thought of cutting the seraph open to see what made him tick inside.

"Your parents never let you have a puppy when you were a child, did they?"

Hojo finally looked at him with a frown. "Not to my recollection...not that it's any of your concern."

Reeve nodded. "Thank Gaia." He watched the Serpent King with a bit of fascination himself, and he had to admit, he was a mesmerizing creature...terrible and beautiful at once. This was the first time he'd ever seen him in person, and his sculpted features were too attractive to be merely "handsome". Much like Vincent, this seraph was nothing short of beautiful, and he wondered if they all shared such angelic features.

"I've never heard of him literally being part serpent, before," Reeve said. "Everyone I've spoken to that ever saw him before described him with legs."

"The serpentine half manifests under certain conditions," explained Hojo. "He was walking on two legs like a mortal, earlier."

Reeve looked at the professor again. "And what exactly provoked his change? I'm guessing it has something to do with emotional or physical distress."

Hojo gave the being in the cell a displeased look. "We attempted to take a blood sample. He killed one of the guards before he could shoot him with a tranquilizer, and the other barely made it out of the cell in time. I suppose we may have to do this the hard way, and force his cooperation."

"And you intend to do that just _how_?"

Hojo gave him a ghastly smile. "With his companion, of course. Deusericus is the _real_ key to getting this creature's cooperation. I'm just awaiting the president's sanction, before I arrange for it."

"You're going to torture his advisor to get him to allow you to take samples," guessed Reeve.

"One has to take advantage of whatever gains available," agreed Hojo with a nod, his voice cold with indifference. "In this case, that means threatening the only thing he holds dear that we have at our disposal, so be it."

Reeve compressed his lips with distaste, but he said nothing. He gave Sephiroth one last look, and then he took his leave. He'd seen the proof. Now he just needed to get in to see Lazard and plan his next move.

* * *

Lazard looked up when his cell door opened, and he sighed at the sight of the familiar, handsome face looking down at him. Reeve Tuesti's hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and his well-groomed beard and mustache were the same as Lazard remembered from the last time he'd seen him. Aside from the longer hair, he hadn't changed much at all.

"Did they send you in here to torture me some more?"

Reeve frowned at him, taking note of the fresh bruises on his face. "'More'?" he repeated, looking sincerely puzzled.

"They've made it a habit to give me a good kick or two each time they bring food, water or questions," explained the blond. "I just assumed."

"I thought you knew me better than that." Reeve squatted down before him, his long, dark blue coat settling around him on the stone floor. His dark eyes studied Lazard with a hint of pity in them. "The report I was given stated that no harm was to come to the political prisoners, unless necessary."

Lazard snorted, and then he winced as the action made fresh blood trickle from his nose. "They've been unable to give my king the same treatment they've been lavishing on me. He killed one of them, already." The advisor smirked at Reeve, and then he nodded at the black and white monitor set into the wall. "I enjoyed watching that. They let us see each other, but we can't speak with each other, obviously."

Reeve glanced at the monitor to see the gorgeous seraph, still pacing in his cage. His tail was gone now, and he walked on long legs. He appeared to be staring at someone outside his cage, but then he stopped and looked directly into the camera. Lazard noticed the little shiver that coursed through Reeve as his king's glowing eyes stared out from the screen, as if he could see them.

"They haven't beaten me anymore, since he killed the guard," Lazard said.

"They weren't supposed to be beating you to begin with," Reeve said. He looked at the blond again, and he reached into his jacket to produce a handkerchief. "Here. Keep this."

Lazard took it and he wiped the fresh blood from his nose. "What are you doing here, Tuesti?"

"I came to warn you," answered the engineer. "Professor Hojo wants samples from your king, and he intends to get permission to torture you in order to force the seraph's cooperation to get it."

Lazard paled slightly, but his noble features remained impassive and dignified.

"Will he give in, do you think?" Reeve pressed.

Lazard started to answer, then shut his mouth uncertainly and looked away, his blue-gray eyes finally revealing some anxiety. "I...don't know. I would hope not, but my lord isn't always so easy to predict."

"Hmm." Reeve sighed, and he got to his feet. "Well, I'm going to go and speak with President Shinra now. I obviously can't procure your _official_ release, but I'll see what I can do to put a stop to—or at least delay—this torture madness. For what it's worth, I'm sorry this happened to you, friend. I enjoyed working with you, before all this."

Lazard stared at him, frowning. Reeve left it at that, and he knocked for the guards to let him out of the cell while Lazard watched. When he was alone again in his prison, Lazard mulled over the conversation he'd had. That last part...there was something strange about it. He thought it over for a while, his eyes straying to the monitor. They'd taken his glasses, so he had to get off of his mattress and walk over to the screen to see Sephiroth clearly. Suspecting they had sound monitors as well as visual ones installed in his cell, he refrained from speaking his thoughts aloud, as he sometimes did when contemplating at home.

_~What is he up to? There was a message somewhere in there, I'm sure of it. My "official" release? Delay the torture? And that bit about working with me before...we didn't really "work" much together, except when an assignment took us on the same path.~_

His head was muzzy with pain and from the knot on the back of it resulting from the last kick he'd received to it. He feared he might have a concussion, and it was making it difficult to concentrate. He lay his forehead against the wall and he tried to find the energy to stay awake. Just _what_ was Tuesti trying to say to him...or was his feverish mind just imagining things?

* * *

"Mr. Tuesti," greeted Rufus when the engineer stepped into his office. He stood up and shook hands with Reeve as the older man stopped before his desk and offered the gesture. "How is the progress on the submarines?"

"They're moving along nicely," assured Reeve. "We've built four, so far. It would go a bit faster with greater funding."

"I'm seeing what I can do about procuring that, as we speak." Rufus took a seat in his expensive leather chair and he gestured invitingly for Reeve to do the same at one of the other two on the opposite side of the desk. When the engineer sat down, Rufus threaded his fingers together on top of his desk. His face—so similar to Lazard's—bore a satisfied expression on it.

"I presume you've heard about our latest acquisition?"

Reeve nodded. "Yes sir, and I must congratulate you on such a bold move."

"You aren't going to lecture me about the risk of keeping a seraph hostage?"

The older man shook his dark head. "I think you already know the risks, and I assume you have a contingency plan in place if he were to escape."

"As long as we hold his..._advisor_ over his head, that isn't likely to happen. The Serpent King doesn't know where Lazard is being held, and vice-versa. We've put them on entirely separate floors for a reason."

"Yes, I've noticed that." Reeve looked somewhat troubled. "I also noticed the interest that Professor Hojo has shown in the seraph prisoner."

"Then you've been to see them," reasoned the president.

Reeve nodded, not denying it. "I was curious, I admit. I've never actually seen a seraph in the flesh, and the Serpent King is rumored to be the most dangerous one of all. As I said before, sir, congratulations on your success. I doubt anyone else could have managed."

"We got lucky," admitted Rufus, "and we paid the price with the loss of several good soldiers and a Turk."

"Which Turk?" asked Reeve. He was on decent terms with most of them.

"You didn't know this one," assured Rufus. "Reno, Rude, Elena and Cissnei are all fine...though the former two were mildly injured in the attack."

Reeve nodded. "Sir, I don't have any real compunctions about what you're doing, if you're confident that you can make it work. I have to protest Hojo's plans, however. I stopped by Lazard's cell and I think torturing him to procure the seraph's cooperation would be a mistake. I think I could convince Lazard to cooperate with us, if you give me the chance."

"But it isn't _his_ cooperation we're after," said Rufus with a frown. "We're after the seraph's DNA."

"Why?" asked Reeve. "So Hojo can try to use it to create some twisted mutation in an effort to learn how to clone their kind? Your father went in for that sort of thing, but I thought you were against it."

"I'm not _for_ it," corrected Rufus, "but we have more to gain by procuring samples of DNA from the Snake King than experimentation."

He got out of his chair and he went to the cabinet on the other side of the room. He unlocked the cabinet with the keys he kept on his person and as Reeve watched, he withdrew an oaken box from inside. He unlocked the box and set it on his desk, opening the lid to reveal the contents.

"Do you know what this is, Reeve?"

The older man peered inside with a frown. "Some form of stone amulet." He thought about it for a few seconds, and he revised his opinion. "Does it activate something?"

Rufus nodded. "Yes, it does. This is a keystone, Tuesti. It unlocks the way into the Serpent King's hidden kingdom. There's no other known way to reach it. If we can activate it and overcome his forces where they live, we could take back the rest of this continent."

"That's quite an ambitious plan," allowed Reeve carefully. "How can you be sure you can activate the thing at all, though? I assume you need either the Serpent King or his advisor to tell you how it works."

"Not at all," answered Reeve. "Hollander has been researching the lore on the temple, and he already knows how it works. We don't need information from them. We need blood. Each keystone is attuned to its owner. We need a way to trick it into working for us."

"Pardon me, but after my visit with Lazard, I can't help but notice you already have some of his blood at your disposal. Your people shouldn't have much trouble collecting it from him."

"That's the problem," Rufus sighed. "The keystone we have belongs to the Serpent King. Lazard didn't have one on him, or else he somehow hid or destroyed it during the attack. I've had my people scour the airship we captured when we caught them, and there's been no sign of the missing item, so far. You see our dilemma."

Reeve nodded. "Yes, I can see the problem. So, is this why you're going along with Hojo's plan to torture your half-brother to force his cooperation?"

"Sometimes the ends justify the means, Reeve." Rufus shrugged. "I have no love for Lazard, true. I think he's a traitor to his kind, and he's always been a thorn in my side. I have no intention of killing him, however. His injuries will be tended in due time."

"Did you know they've been beating him at regular intervals, since his incarceration?"

"I discovered that fact this morning," answered the president, "and I put a stop to it."

"You mean, after the Serpent King took out his revenge on one of the guards responsible, when they attempted to tranquilize him."

Rufus frowned at him, and Reeve spread his hands. "I'm only trying to get all of the facts. I've been away for months, and these developments are all new to me."

Rufus relaxed a bit. "I presume you came to see me for a reason, beyond giving a short report on the status of the submarines."

"As I said before; I may be able to convince Lazard to cooperate," answered Reeve. "And if I can get his cooperation, he may be able to convince the seraph to cooperate as well."

"Not at the expense of his kingdom's safety," predicted Rufus with a shake of his head. He leaned back in his chair and he pressed the tips of his fingers together, narrowing his eyes as he stared absently at them. "If he knows what we could do with a sample of his blood or tissue, he's certainly not going to cooperate."

"Then make sure he doesn't know," answered Reeve. "Leave it at testing and don't tell him anything else. He doesn't have to know you intend to use his cells to manipulate his keystone."

"Lazard would know," said Rufus. "He knows we have the technology to do such a thing, Reeve. He isn't likely to cooperate with you or with anyone else, if he thinks it could mean the invasion of the hidden temple city. If you think you can convince him to lie to his master or keep his knowledge to himself, think again."

Reeve grimaced. "I suppose there's no hope of my plan succeeding, then."

Rufus shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I appreciate your position, Reeve. I know you dislike what we have to do, but this could bring in the dawn of a new era for our kind. We could take Gaia back, and never suffer the rule of these creatures again. They think they're gods, and their followers worship them as such. I say it's time they vanish—either by death or by exile. I don't care which."

Reeve nodded, sighing. "Then do what you need to do, President. I've said my piece, and it's out of my hands, now. If you'll excuse me, I need to gather some things from my office here to take back with me to Junon."

"Of course," agreed Rufus cordially. "I take it your stay here will be short, then?"

"Only a couple of days," answered Reeve. "I just wanted to see the legend for myself and pick up some things I left behind. I assure you, my people continue to work on the project while I'm away. I trust my team to do their very best."

"Good. I'm glad I have your support, Tuesti."

Reeve stood up and he gave the president a bow. "I do as my conscience dictates, sir. I'm sure yours does the same."

* * *

Reeve left the president's office and he went straight to his own, where he knew damned well there weren't any hidden monitors to eavesdrop on him. He locked the door behind him and he went to the device on his desk. It was a compact computer, one of the first of it's kind. It connected with every electronic function in the building, and he was going to need it _and_ the gadgets he'd brought with him, if he was going to pull this off and live through it.

* * *

_Early that evening in Menephera: _

Genesis ignored the thunder as he sat down with Zack in his chambers and discussed the status of the kingdoms. "Sephiroth's realm is as secure as it can possibly be now, without him there to protect it himself. My borders are secured as well, and I've contacted Tseng about this. He claims complete ignorance of ShinRa's plan to capture Sephiroth, and he _says_ his people have no hostile intentions against us."

Zack sighed. "I'd really like to believe him, but as mellow as Tseng is compared to Rufus, he's got a mean streak, and he usually cooperates with ShinRa when they ask him to. He used to be the leader of the Turks, 'till Godo croaked and he took over Wutai in his stead."

"I don't need a Wutai history lesson, Zackary," Genesis sighed. "At present, they would have to get through my kingdom to reach yours—provided they don't attack by air or sea. Still, you need to secure your borders just like I did. You should probably leave with the sunrise tomorrow. If things get bad, my offer still stands for you to evacuate your people here. Menephera is more defensible than your realms."

"Yeah, you've said that already." Zack sighed. "I hate to leave Cloud and Aerith behind, but I feel better leaving them here with you for their own safety. I still don't think this is going to turn into a giant shitstorm unless they kill Seph...at least until he gets out of there."

"And therein lies the problem," reminded Genesis again. "They have to know there will be recompense for what they've done, if they let Sephiroth go free. Rufus Shinra isn't likely to take that chance. I sincerely doubt this is all just about riches, Zackary. It's about land and power. With their ruler at ShinRa's mercy, the Serpent King's realms could very well fall. Those who don't defect may surrender on the threat of his death if they refuse."

"I never thought of that." Zack growled softly in frustration and he got out of his chair to pace the room. "What if they pull that shit with us, too? Are we going to give up, or risk Seph's life?"

"Either way, he's dead if we don't manage to free him," Genesis predicted grimly. "They've caught the serpent, but now they can't let go of it without getting bitten. Do you see now why we've stressed the importance of never trusting these creatures so deeply, Zackary?"

"No," insisted Zack stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest in a belligerent gesture. "If I never trusted any of them, I wouldn't have Cloud and Aerith. Not all humans are fucked in the head like the ShinRa people, Genesis. Oh, and by the way...you wouldn't have Angeal, if you never trusted humans."

"Yes I would," corrected the Pharaoh calmly. "He belongs to me, you fool. Whether I trust him or not has no bearing on that."

"_You're_ the fool," Zack muttered.

Genesis smirked at him. "Don't sulk. Yes, we can trust _certain_ mortals to an extent, but you're far too eager to extend a hand or paw of friendship to them. What happened to Sephiroth is a fine example of why you can't keep doing that."

"Okay, okay," sighed Zack. He combed a few bothersome locks of dark hair away that were hanging over his eyes, and he looked out the window at the flashing, darkening skies. "Speaking of Angeal...how is he?"

"Much the same as before," answered Genesis, his hard expression softening unwittingly as he thought of the stricken human. It was maddening and frustrating. He despised feeling so helpless, knowing that his favorite mortal was lying there stricken and he could do nothing to heal him.

"Maybe you ought to think about going to see him," suggested Zack. "I'll bet just you being there would make him feel better."

Genesis cast an annoyed look at him. "You've been listening to palace speculation too much, Zack. For one thing, Angeal is unconscious most of the time. He wouldn't know if I was by his side or not. For another, you seem to be attaching a romantic relationship to us that isn't a reality. I'm his master. He's my slave."

"And you're totally in love with him."

Genesis glared outright at him, and Zack shrugged, leaning back against the wall casually with a smug grin. "You're just the only one that doesn't know it yet, Gen."

"Go and be with your pets," snapped the Pharaoh crossly, unable to think up a better comeback.

"I thought you'd never let me out of here." Zack was still grinning at him in that infuriating way. "And they're not my 'pets', anymore than Angeal is yours. You're so transparent, Gen."

"I don't see you leaving."

Zack shrugged and he granted his wish, sauntering out of his bedchambers casually. He whistled a little tune on his lips as he left, making Genesis want to throw one of his decorative urns at him.

* * *

After he cooled down again, Genesis left his chambers and he wandered the halls of his palace absently. He looked up at the gilded columns, the hieroglyphs etched and painted on the walls, and the flickering light of the torches and braziers. His footsteps eventually took him to the chambers of healing, and he didn't even realize it until he ended up standing before Angeal's pallet. They had taken him off the examination table and laid him down on the cushioned surface of one of the bedding pallets for his comfort.

Genesis approached it and he knelt beside it, frowning. He could feel the heat radiating from Angeal, and he cast his mind to the medical journals he'd read. The human body could only take so much heat before the brain cooked. Suppose his Angeal was no longer in there at all?

Genesis' thoughts locked up when he caught himself thinking of him as "his Angeal". He stared at him, his eyes scanning his handsome face, his broad chest, tight abs and muscular thighs. There was no sign of sweat on his flushed skin—which would have been a good sign.

"Pharaoh!"

The exclamation startled Genesis a little, and he looked up to see one of the physicians with a bowl of water in his hands. He stood up and moved aside as the healer bowed, and he gestured at Angeal. "Don't worry about that. Take care of him."

The physician hurried to Angeal's side and he began to bath his body with cool water. Genesis acted on compulsion again, frowning. "Wait. Leave it to me."

The man looked up at him with surprise on his bearded face. "You, Highness?"

"Yes, me." Genesis knelt again, holding his hand out expectedly for the sea sponge. "Leave me."

Bowing humbly, the physician relinquished the sponge to him and left, as commanded. Genesis dipped it into the bowl of water and squeezed it out lightly, before he began to run the sponge over Angeal's body.

"What's happened to you?" he whispered. The man was as healthy as an ox, just yesterday. If nobody poisoned him and nothing bit or stung him, there was no logical reason for him to be burning up like this.

Angeal moaned, and he began to thrash weakly on the pallet. Genesis dropped the sponge and pressed him down with both hands, holding him by the shoulders. "Shhh, don't fret," he whispered, awkwardly trying to sooth him.

"G-Gen...sis," murmured Angeal.

The Pharaoh hesitated again, stricken more than he cared to admit by that weak call. Remembering Zack's suggestion, he sighed and he stroked Angeal's dark hair. "Yes, I'm here. Be still, Angeal. I'll fetch more medicine to ease your pain."

"Back," panted Angeal, trying to thrash on the pallet again. His eyes remained shut, suggesting he wasn't truly awake or aware of his surroundings.

Genesis frowned. Was he asking him to get back, or come back? "I haven't gone anywhere, Angeal."

"On...fire."

Genesis looked at the discarded sponge and he reached for it. "I know. The fever is burning you up. Be still, and I'll try to give you some relief." He let his wing come out as he wet the sponge again, and he began to bathe the overheated skin. He spoke softly to the human as he tried to ease his suffering.

"You have to defeat this," insisted Genesis in a murmur. "You're too strong to let this beat you, whatever is causing it." He started to fan the air around them with his wing, doing his best to aid his efforts through circulation.

"Pharaoh?"

Genesis sighed and looked up to find the head physician watching him from the entrance to the room. "What now?"

"It's time for his medication, Highness."

"Oh." Genesis looked at his slave once more, before replacing the sponge in the bowl and getting to his feet. He retracted his wing and he nodded at the healer. "See to him, then. I'm going outside for some fresh air."

"Um, my king...there is still a fierce storm raging outside," reminded the physician.

Genesis cursed. He'd forgotten about the torrential storm. It wasn't likely to dissipate anytime soon, either. The lightning wasn't as dangerous to him as it was to mortals, but he wasn't quite willing to test that theory. "Then I'll stand at the palace entrance. Come and fetch me if you have anything useful to report."

* * *

Seeing that big, strong man lying there so weak and delirious, and hearing him call his name like that had a sobering effect on Genesis. Angeal could die. The thought made him angry and a bit sick to his stomach. He put a hand over his bare abdomen and he looked up at the pouring sky from the safety of arching palace entrance. Lightning forked overhead and he shut his eyes against the glare.

_~Minerva, why? Why is this happening? Yes, our mother wronged you. The children of Jenova aren't responsible, though. Is this a test? Would you welcome any of us into the Lifestream when we pass on, given what we are?~_

His one secret comfort was that at least Angeal would find solace in the arms of the goddess, should his illness be the end of him. The comfort in that thought only lasted as long as it took for him to realize that Angeal's death meant no more Angeal. He would be gone, and he would probably never see him again...not in this life, or in the next. Genesis turned a circle without thinking about it, dragging his fingers through his hair. His palace guards looked on quietly, none of them daring to ask what ailed him, just yet.

He'd suffered a severe fever similar to Angeal's, once. It happened when his wing was growing. It happened to every seraph, in fact. It was a symptom of the body changing to accommodate and adjust to the final stage of their legacy. Some even died from the transition and the fever.

_"Back. On...fire."_

Genesis' expression went utterly blank as he recalled Angeal's complaints. He stood there in disbelief for a few moments, shaking his head. "It...can't be. It would have happened before now..."

He looked back at the interior of the palace, his eyes going to the corridor leading to the stairs to the healing chambers. "Goddess," he gasped, and he strode back in, doing his best not to rush and draw more attention to himself than he already had.

* * *

"Turn him over," demanded Genesis as he returned to the chamber. The middle-aged physician gave him a startled look. "Turn him _over_, I said! Onto his stomach!"

The older man didn't argue or question him. He attempted to do as Genesis commanded, but he lacked the strength to turn the dead weight of such a big man over himself. "Forgive me, Highness," he grunted, "but I can't!"

"Move aside," snapped Genesis, practically shoving the poor healer away. The hapless man stumbled back, hitting his head on a column and cursing in pain.

Genesis eased Angeal onto his side, and even he found the task a bit difficult. He rolled him onto his stomach and upon examining his back, he found confirmation of his suspicion growing from the right shoulder. The physician righted himself and came up beside Genesis to stare down at the slave, his eyes wide in his dusky face.

"Pharaoh...is that a wing?"

Genesis carefully ran his fingertips over the down of feathers emerging from Angeal's right shoulder blade. He frowned when he saw that there appeared to be a smaller region of growth just beneath the larger one. The feathers were white, like his mother's.

"Yes, it's a wing." Genesis turned his glowing gaze to the physician, before he looked at the door. "Close and bar that door, immediately."

When the man didn't move quickly enough to suit him, Genesis' expression darkened. "Is this going to become an issue?"

The healer looked at Angeal, then back at his Pharaoh. He shook his head hastily and he turned to comply.

"Wait."

The poor man stumbled to a stop and cast a wary look at him.

"Fetch Asim. Tell him to bring Kasmut and two other strong guards of his choice."

The man bowed. "Yes, my king."

As he left to comply, Genesis looked back down at Angeal. He shook his head in disbelief. "I've heard of late bloomers," he murmured as he traced the wing pattern growing from his back, "but never quite _this_ late."

He didn't need his subjects finding out about this until he was good and ready for them to. He'd never seen a white winged seraph born to his generation, before. He would have his servants bring him to his personal chambers through the secret passage, to avoid the risk of the wrong eyes seeing the growth.

He only hoped Angeal could survive the transition.

* * *

-To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 8

* * *

The next morning, Zack boarded an airship with an escort of Genesis' honor guard to accompany him. The sun had just begun to rise, and he stood in the landing field with Cloud, Aerith and Genesis to say his goodbyes while the engines powered up.

"Don't worry," he said to Aerith as he held her close and nuzzled her hair. "Everything's going to be fine, okay?"

She nodded and drew his head down for a kiss. After a few moments, Zack reluctantly let go of her and he reached out for Cloud. "Come here, Sunshine. You're not getting away without a smooch."

Cloud smiled a little, and he allowed the seraph to draw him into his embrace. "You and Aerith look out for each other while I'm away, okay?" Zack murmured. Cloud nodded, and Zack cupped his chin to tilt his head back for a kiss. "I'm counting on you to defend her, if something goes down," he murmured after plundering his lips for a moment.

"You know I will," promised Cloud. "Just don't do anything reckless. If it looks like they might move in on you, don't hang around."

Zack chuckled and he gave Cloud a salute. "Yes sir."

Cloud smirked. "I mean it."

The brunet sobered and he nodded. "I know you do. I'll be fine. The Pharaoh and I have already talked about this, and if ShinRa starts moving in on Gongaga, I'll be evacuating everyone here. In the meantime, try to have a little fun, okay? You're entitled."

Cloud stepped away with him and shrugged. He put an arm around Aerith as if it was second nature to him, already. "Can't have much fun when I'm worrying about you and Tifa, but I'll try."

Zack frowned, lowering his gaze. "I'm sorry, kid. I know you want your friend back. We'll get her, somehow. I just need to figure out how."

Cloud shook his head. "They aren't going to hurt her. I can take some comfort in that, at least. You tried, and that's all I can ask for. I'm just sorry the Serpent King is in trouble now, because of us."

"Seph will get out of this," Zack said with confidence. When Genesis cleared his throat meaningfully, the brunet sighed and revised his words. "The Serpent King, I mean."

"It's time for you to board, Zackary," Genesis reminded, approaching the younger seraph. His gaze settled on the airship behind him. "The craft is ready to go. Remember what I told you. You know how to secure your boarders."

Zack nodded and he reached out to pat Genesis on the shoulders. "Yeah, I know. Watch the skies and the sea. I'll keep that in mind. I might go ahead and start migrating civilians right away, if that's all right by you. If there's going to be an attack, I don't want my villagers paying for it."

Genesis looked mildly surprised. "I'll be damned...you listened."

Zack shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "I do that, sometimes."

"I think it's the right decision," said the redhead in a more somber tone. He scratched an itchy spot on his face under his golden falcon mask. "Don't contemplate any drastic heroics, though."

"Why does everyone keep saying things like that to me?" huffed Zackary.

"Because we know what you're like," supplied Aerith.

Genesis nodded, not chastising the girl for speaking out of turn. "She isn't wrong."

Zack chuckled  
and scratched his head.

"Do you have fleas?"

The brunet gave Genesis a mock glare. "You're a funny guy."

Genesis smirked. "Just concentrate on the task at hand, when you arrive back in Gongaga. This could all be an over-reaction on our part, but considering the humans outnumber our kind enormously, it's best to be cautious."

"Until a fight starts," predicted Zack. "You're one of the craziest bastards I've ever seen on the battlefield, when things get hairy. Funny how you're preaching caution now."

Genesis shrugged. "Preemptive defensive measures are an entirely different thing. There's a time and place for everything, Zackary."

Zack nodded. "How's Angeal doing?"

Genesis lowered his gaze, a frown marring his sensitive lips. "I've had him moved to my chambers for comfort. The physicians are doing what they can."

Zack could have run with that and made a second observation concerning Genesis' obvious infatuation with the Banoran, but even he knew this wasn't the time for such things. "It's probably better for him to be in a soft bed, away from anyone else that's sick," he remarked instead. He patted Genesis on the shoulder. "Take care."

Genesis nodded. "You do the same."

Zack sighed and he started to head for the airship, but he stopped and turned to face them again. "Come here, guys. One last hug."

Cloud and Aerith approached him and he took them both in a big hug. Genesis sighed and shook his head, but he didn't lecture the younger seraph for procrastinating.

* * *

It was difficult for Genesis to pretend there was nothing unusual going on, aside from the looming threat of ShinRa's recent actions. He had his hands full, and the next day was filled with planning, organizing and maintaining calm among the populace. Rumors had spread of the threat of war and he could see the fear in the eyes of his people as he oversaw the progress of city defenses. He communicated with Sephiroth's council at the Temple, when the day's work was finished. ShinRa had been in contact with them, demanding to know when the exchange could be made. So far, there had been no threats on Sephiroth and Lazard's lives, but that could change within a day.

When he finally had a few moments to himself, much later that afternoon, Genesis went to his chambers to have dinner and check on Angeal. Asim personally brought his meal to him, as Genesis didn't want the common servants to find out what ailed his slave. As Genesis stood over his bed and gazed down at Angeal, the dark-skinned royal advisor approached hesitantly.

"How is he, Highness?"

"See for yourself," murmured the seraph, gesturing at the afflicted man. The wings had grown larger during the day, with the larger one on top protruding a foot out of the right side of Angeal's back, and the smaller one beneath it was out by a few inches.

"How strange," observed Asim softly. He looked at his Pharaoh with interest. "You and the others have only one wing, and it's black."

"Very observant of you," said Genesis crossly. Angeal groaned and shuddered, and Genesis impulsively stroked his hair to sooth him. "bring the water here. He needs to stay hydrated."

Asim hastened to comply, and when he had the cup of liquid in his hand, Genesis knelt beside the bed and he tried to wake his slave. "Angeal. You need to drink."

The dark blue eyes opened a slit, and Genesis could see the reflective glow in them that marked him as a seraph. He didn't seem to recognize his surroundings, and his eyes wouldn't focus, but at least he appeared to understand his words. "Try to lift your head."

The brunet complied, lifting his head off the pillow with a grunt of effort. Genesis brought the cup to his lips and let him drink. Some of the water spilled onto the bed, but he didn't care. "That's it," he murmured. "Drink your fill."

Asim watched it all quietly, and Genesis didn't see the little smile on his face.

* * *

Hojo looked up with a frown as the lights flickered. "Trouble with the power generators?" he wondered aloud. His gaze went back to the specimen in the cell. Perhaps his plans would be delayed. The idea displeased him. He itched to get his hands on the creature's DNA. He was already making plans to experiment with seraph and human gene splicing. Perhaps he could create a new hybrid, or even a new breed of Seraphim—under human control.

The lights flickered again, and this time they went out completely. The red backup lights came on, operating on temporary generators. Hojo looked around, and he began to protest when the guards approached and told him he had to leave the area.

"But—"

"I'm sorry professor," one of them said as he took Hojo's arm and began to lead him out of the observation room, "but non-security personnel aren't allowed to be here in the event of a blackout. The prisoner is too dangerous."

Hojo struggled against their hold as they took him away and pushed him out the door. He stumbled when he made it into the hallway, and he smoothed his lab coat with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Barbarians," he sniffed disdainfully.

Of course, if the specimen got out, they weren't likely to survive the encounter, either. He rather enjoyed the thought of them being crushed in the seraph's coils, like the rodents they were. He started to head for his office, intending to work on his notes, since he couldn't get the samples he wanted right away. He made it halfway down the hall before even the backup lights went out completely. It was pitch black, now, and he made an annoyed sound and began to feel his way around, going by memory to make his way to the stairs. The elevators would obviously be out of order now, and he almost missed the days when they ran on the clockwork crank system, instead of electricity.

He found the entrance to the stairs and he heard the curses and exclamations of security personnel as they tried to adjust to the sudden plunge of darkness. "They'll have someone check the generators," one of them was saying from behind Hojo.

The professor got into the stairwell and he began to creep up, keeping close to the wall to feel his way in the darkness. Climbing the stairs was a bit of a hassle when deprived of vision this way, but he managed. He made it two floors up before he heard the footsteps of someone else on the stairs, up ahead of him. He frowned and he started to reach for the gun he kept on his person for emergencies.

"Who's there?"

He listened carefully, his hearing seeming amplified by the deprivation of his visual facilities. He could hear the other person breathing, and the footsteps paused. "I asked you to announce yourself," he reiterated.

The next thing Hojo felt was a fist striking him in the jaw, hard enough to make him see stars. He fell against the wall and tumbled down the stairs, hitting his head hard enough in the process to make him lose consciousness. As awareness faded into a deeper blackness, he heard a male voice speak.

"I've always wanted to do that."

* * *

The guards had no idea what hit them. The attacker fired some kind of electric device into their midst and the darkness was temporarily lit up as the crackle of energy coursed through them and left them both in a twitching heap on the floor. The other guards in the room nearby heard the commotion and when they ran to assist their allies, they were blinded by a brilliant flash. For a split second, they saw the figure of a man in a trench-coat, with some kind of weird goggles covering half his face, and then they felt the prick of tranquilizer darts piercing their necks. They soon joined their fellows on the floor.

The saboteur moved through the holding area, stepping over the bodies of the helpless men he'd vanquished. Two more guards came around the corner and there was a whistling sound as he released yet more gadgets. The guards swore and shouted as their arms and legs got tangled up in the netting that spun out from the disks chucked at them, enveloping them in the webbing. The clicking sound of gears filled their ears as the nets tightened around them, cocooning them into neat little packages. Each of them got a blow to the back of the head as the assailant passed by, knocking them out cold.

The infiltrator retrieved another gadget from the folds of his clothing, and it worked like a ShinRa army knife, only the tools that flicked out from it were of an entirely different nature than those commonly found in such multi-purpose knives. He unlocked the first door to the restricted area and he went in.

* * *

Lazard heard the click of the bolt sliding and he instinctively huddled back against the wall, not particularly eager to begin the first round of outright torture they had planned for him. He couldn't see a damned thing, but he could hear the booted footsteps approaching him. He contemplated striking out at the guard—he could tell there was only one. Guessing the man was armed, the idea gained more appeal to him by the second. If they shot him dead, they couldn't use him as leverage against Sephiroth.

"Lazard," whispered a familiar voice, interrupting his thoughts of martyrdom.

The advisor frowned. "Reeve?"

"Yes. I'm getting you out of here," answered the other man. "Do me a favor and don't say my name out loud while we're doing this. You'll blow my cover."

"What are you _doing_?" demanded Lazard—perhaps foolishly.

"Just how hard have they hit you in the head?" snapped the older man. "I'm rescuing you. Quit asking questions and come on. Take my hand."

"I can't exactly _see_ it," observed the blond, mystified. So _this_ was what Reeve had been hinting at. The man was so obtuse.

Reeve sighed impatiently and grabbed the blond's hand, pulling him up. When Lazard groaned softly in pain, he gentled his hold on him. "Sorry. I know you're in pain but we don't have time to tend to your aches. Here, take this."

Lazard felt a firearm of some kind being pressed into his hand. "How am I supposed to use this? I'm more likely to shoot you or myself, in this blackness."

"There's a switch," explained Reeve. "It activates a flashlight...but don't turn it on unless it's absolutely necessary, because you'll give your own position away. Just stick close to me and avoid shooting unless I go down."

"That's...comforting," muttered Lazard. He reached out and grabbed hold of Reeve's coat. "Let's go."

* * *

Lazard had been in many frightening situations in his life, but this was quite possibly the most terrifying one. He remembered attending a haunted house event as a child one year, and this reminded him of that situation—except there was a real threat of death. He couldn't see a damned thing, except for when Reeve's flash bombs, electric discharges and other gadgets went off. Word evidently got out that there was an intruder in the detainment wings and now they faced guards at every turn.

They had to make it down two flights of stairs to the lower, top security area. Lazard instinctively ducked when flashlights settled on them from below, and Reeve produced some strange object that made a clattering sound as it fanned out. There was a racket of bullets striking metal, and then Reeve chucked something into the stair well. Lazard heard shouts and a buzzing sound, and he guessed the engineer had used some kind of stunning weapon on their attackers.

"Come on," urged Reeve. "There's bound to be more."

Lazard got back to his feet and grabbed hold of the older man's coat again, feeling utterly useless. He was dizzy from the head injury he'd sustained in holding earlier, and it wasn't exactly easy to keep his balance in the darkness. Reeve paused long enough to remove the batteries from the discarded flashlights that had fallen from the guards' hands, and the stairwell was again plunged into darkness.

"How in the hell are you seeing where you're going?" demanded Lazard.

"Goggles," answered Reeve shortly. "Keep going."

* * *

"Well, that wasn't easy," muttered Reeve when they finally made it into the area where they were holding the Serpent King. He'd been grazed in the arm with a bullet, but he was otherwise unharmed. He was running out of non-lethal ways to subdue his opponents, but he guessed that wouldn't be an issue once he freed the seraph. Sephiroth would likely cut down any guards that got in their way like wheat. Reeve debated whether it had been a good idea to fetch the seraph's long, razor-sharp blade from the confiscation lockup.

He didn't have time for regrets, though. More guards were coming through the doorway up ahead, attempting to form a barricade. Reeve immediately tossed a copper-colored sphere their way, and it rolled over the floor and came to a stop at the boot of one of them. The guard tried to kick it away, but it discharged before he could do so and the electricity shorted out their flashlights, while stunning three of them at the same time. The other two started to shoot blindly in the direction they'd spotted Reeve and Lazard, and the two of them were forced to dive away from each other.

Hoping Lazard wouldn't vivisect himself on the blade he was carrying, Reeve flattened himself against the wall and waited for a break in the gunfire to look at the situation. The two standing guards were using the unconscious bodies of their own comrades as a cover as they struggled to get their light sources working again.

"Charming," muttered Reeve.

No sense of loyalty, these people. He paused and frowned. Then again, he was betraying Rufus. Perhaps he wasn't one to judge on loyalty. With a shrug, he dug through his belongings for options. He thought of the smoke bomb, but he nixed the idea. He had a mask he could place over his mouth and nose, but Lazard didn't. He couldn't drag his ass around. He didn't want to use another stun bomb on them, as he only had a couple left and he didn't know if he'd need them to escape or not.

With a sigh, he decided on an option he'd been hoping to avoid. It was them or him, though. He waited for the right moment, and he stepped out carefully and took aim. Blind as they were, the guards didn't stand a chance. Reeve shot them both in the head and he winced as their blood and brains splattered against the wall, along with pieces of the backs of their skulls. The bullets went in neatly, but they made quite an exit mess.

"Deusericus?" called Reeve, "are you still alive?"

"More or less," came a miserable reply to the left. Reeve looked in the direction of the response and he cursed when he saw Lazard sitting against the opposite wall, with his hand pressing down on his left thigh. Blood was pooling on the floor beneath him. The limb appeared to be intact, so he presumed he hadn't accidentally sliced it off with Sephiroth's sword as he went for cover.

Reeve approached him and he squatted down before him. "Can you walk?"

Lazard stared blankly in his direction, unable to see him in the darkness. "Maybe. Just...get Sephiroth out of here."

"He'd crush me like a bug before I could say one word, if I don't have you with me when I get in there," predicted Reeve. He tugged the right sleeve of his coat up to reveal the bangle on his wrist. It had a couple of rare, precious materia orbs socketed to it, and he had no choice but to use the green one, if he was going to keep Lazard from bleeding out or going into shock.

"Hold still," Reeve said. "You'll have to get that bullet removed later—unless it happened to go all the way through?"

Lazard shook his head, sweat beading his brow. "No. It's wedged in the muscle...I can feel it."

Reeve grimaced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, but it's going to have to stay there, for now. Your seraph and I will just have to help you walk, if you need the support." He activated the spell materia as he eased Lazard's hand away from the wound. He held his hand over it and the injury closed as the Cure spell did its work.

"I'm ready," Lazard said through pale lips, once the blood flow stopped. He valiantly climbed to his feet, using his ruler's sword as a sort of crutch. Reeve hastily reached out to steady him.

"Don't do that...if you slip and fall against that thing, you'll be in two halves and we'll both be out of luck."

Lazard allowed him to support him, but he refused to relinquish the blade. "You need your hands free to defend us, if we run into further opposition," reminded the blond, "and I'm not leaving the sword behind."

Having an inkling of the sort of devotion Lazard was displaying towards his seraph, Reeve nodded in understanding. "Okay, then. If you think you can still lug that thing and keep up, I won't try to stop you."

"It's...surprisingly light," Lazard said. He groaned a little, limping behind Reeve once he grabbed hold of his coat again. "Here, the gun," he said, stopping the older man. "I can't carry it and the sword, and I imagine you don't want to leave it behind as evidence."

Reeve paused and turned to take the weapon. He replaced in a holster under his coat and he regarded the younger man with respect. "You're tougher than you look, Lazard."

"I'm just practical. Come on."

Reeve nodded.

* * *

Unlike the humans, Sephiroth could see perfectly well in the dark without the use of mechanized goggles. His first reaction when the door opened to admit his lover was to go to him, but then he saw the man with the strange headgear coming in behind him, he immediately began to call on his internal powers.

"Wait," begged Lazard, holding a pacifying hand up, guessing what the seraph intended. His eyes were wide in the darkness, but he could evidently see the glow in Sephiroth's eyes, because he looked directly at him. "He's helping us."

Sephiroth looked at the strange, bearded mortal behind Lazard, narrowing his eyes on him. "For what purpose?"

"Let's just say I represent someone who can appreciate the foolishness of ShinRa's antics," answered the human readily. "We have a limited window to get you and your consort safely out of here, Serpent King. I'd advise you to come with me. My diversion is on a timer."

Sephiroth regarded him suspiciously, and the limp that his consort now sported hadn't escaped his notice. Human in-fighting wasn't his concern. He couldn't imagine what ShinRa would have to gain by staging something like this, and for the sake of his advisor, he had little other choice but to trust this stranger—for now.

"Your sword," offered Lazard, awkwardly holding the weapon out for him. It was taller than Lazard himself, almost. Sephiroth took it, his emerald gaze sliding over the blond as he assured himself that he wasn't too injured to move.

"Then let's depart."

"There's only one problem," said the bearded stranger. "Your keystone. The president still has it in his office. I can try and retrieve it for you, but you may have to cut your loss. They can't use it without your DNA anyhow."

Sephiroth understood enough about science and genetic material to understand what he meant. He shook his silver head and he allowed a smirk to curve his lips. "Even if they had obtained the samples they wanted, they could never have used them the way you describe."

The human looked like he wanted to argue that point, but he shrugged. "You know better than I. We shouldn't wait any longer."

"Agreed."

* * *

"Dear gods," Reeve gasped, wiping ineffectively at the blood now bathing his coat and face. As expected, they ran into further opposition on their way back up. He intended to take them to the airport through the sewer system. He knew a way to access it from within the building. He wasn't expecting the seraph to demonstrate a level of fighting skill quite _that_ maddening. Sephiroth did indeed move with the speed of a striking viper, earning his title and then some. Most of the time, his opponents didn't even realize they were dead until they fell to pieces before him.

Lazard seemed to have gained a second wind, once Reeve handed back the gun with the light scope attached to it. Those that weren't cut down by Sephiroth got shot down by the blond man. His aim was a bit clumsy without his glasses, but like his brother Rufus, Lazard was a skilled marksman.

"You can't afford to get squeamish now, Tuesti," warned Lazard, once they cleared the way.

"I _told _you not to use my name," muttered the engineer, "and I'm not squeamish. I'm just...uncomfortable. And wet."

Somehow, Lazard avoided most of the blood splatters that now painted Reeve red. How he managed to do that without the benefit of night vision was a mystery. They pressed on, with Reeve leading the way. Lazard knew the layout of the building and the surrounding city as well, but Reeve knew all the hidden nooks and crannies. They finally made it to the sewer access in the boiler room just below the main floor, and Reeve urged his companions to go in.

"Lazard, you know the way to the airport through this system, don't you?"

The blond frowned. "I believe so, but I can't say I trudged around in the sewers very often, Reeve. It's been a while since I lived here, too."

Reeve dug a folded schematic out of a pocket and handed it over. "Here. This should help you. I've got people waiting to fly you out of here, and they'll meet you at the access tunnel to the airport."

"I take it you aren't coming?"

Reeve shook his head. "No. I've got to get cleaned up and changed. I've still got a plausible alibi and things I still need to do around here, before I 'defect'."

Noticing the Serpent King's suspicious look, Reeve spread his hands. "If I wanted to lure you into some sort of trap, I would have done it before now. Why would I help you cut down ShinRa people if I weren't committed to this?"

"I never understand a thing you mortals do," answered the seraph in that sensual voice, "but I see no gain for you in betraying us now. I sincerely hope this isn't in error."

"If anyone pays for this tonight, it's going to be me," answered Reeve grimly. "Now go, and good luck to you. I've done what I can."

"You have our gratitude," Lazard said, since his seraph didn't seem inclined to give thanks. "Good luck to you as well, Reeve."

* * *

Reeve was on his way back up, intending to get to the second upper level of the building and use the duct system to get back to his office, clean up and change out of his incriminating outfit. He made it to B1 before he was nearly bowled over in the staircase by a small, curvy form. He experienced an interesting moment of feeling a woman's breasts push against his stomach as the female body collided with his, and her hard little head struck him in the chin and made him wince.

Looking down at her, he could see that she was no ShinRa employee. He steadied her in surprise, frowning. She was wearing a pair of jumpers and a tank top, and their was an identification bracelet around her right wrist that betrayed her status as a prisoner. He got the chance to observe that she was a pretty little thing, petite but possessed of hourglass curves, with long dark hair, delicate features and wide brown eyes.

Moments after making the observation, he was treated to a kick in the head. Reeling with pain and confusion, Reeve clutched at his abused head and stumbled against the wall, barely avoiding tumbling down the stairs the way Hojo had earlier.

"Wait," he said when the girl looked like she was about to follow up that impressive kick with another blow, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Obviously," she said, and he barely avoided the next kick.

"Dammit, woman, stop! Oh!" Reeve's breath exploded as her fist struck him in the solar plexus. He gagged and he started trying to reach for what was left of his gadgets, having no interest in harming the little lady but needing to defend himself some way. He dropped his tranquilizer gun and he yelled when her bare foot came down on his hand as he was reaching for it.

"How the hell can you even see what you're doing," he groaned, scrambling backwards to avoid another kick. Her aim wasn't perfect—else he might be little more than a pile of bruises by now.

"I don't need my eyes," she informed him in a tight voice. "I can hear you, and I can smell the blood on you!"

"Okay," sighed the engineer. He raised his arm in time to block the next attack, and he used the only advantage currently at his disposal. "Forgive me for this, lass."

The girl gasped in shock as he grabbed her right breast and gave it a squeeze.

"Pig!"

She covered both of the ample mounds with her hands, an instinctive reaction to being groped. While she was distracted with trying to protect her bosom from him, Reeve pushed her against the wall and trapped her there with his body, keeping her arms tightly pressed between them and turning so that she couldn't knee him in the groin.

"Now _listen_ to me," he panted, "I'm not your enemy. I'm not interested in taking you back into custody." He wracked his brain and he remembered the description of one of the political prisoners. "Miss Lockheart, I presume? From Nibelheim?"

Her straining lessened, and she looked wary. "Yes. Who are you?"

"That isn't important," he insisted. "I can help you escape, if you'll let me. I can get you on an airship out of here, if we move quickly."

"Why would you do that?"

He sighed again, wondering the same thing. The more he delayed, the greater the risk of getting caught, himself. "Because I have a death wish, apparently. Now, I'm going to let go of you. Either you can trust me and come with me, or we can pass like ships. I'll leave it up to you."

He carefully released the girl and he tensed, expecting to feel another kick at any moment. He deliberately turned his body to the side a bit to protect the goods. "What's it going to be, Miss?"

She considered the proposal for a moment, and then she nodded. "Okay. If you betray me—"

"I know, you'll kick my head off and use it as a paperweight," he guessed. "Shall we?"

"And keep your hands to yourself," she warned.

"Miss, if you knew me at all, you wouldn't be worrying about that. I apologize for groping you earlier, but I had to distract you."

"There are other ways to do that," she insisted, "but I don't have any other choice. Let's go."

* * *

Cid was both surprised and annoyed when he got word from Reeve to delay takeoff. "What the hell, Tuesti! We've only got a short window to move and get the cargo the fuck out of here!"

"...another passenger," came the crackling response, "we'll...there in two minutes."

The pilot sighed and checked the instruments on the flight control panel. "I hope to hell ya don't get caught." He turned to the crew members in the cockpit with him. "Get ready to help Tuesti and whoever he's bringing with him. We're taking off in three, people."

* * *

Reeve made it onto the airship a short time later, and after escorting the girl he had with him into the lower passenger deck, he went to the cockpit to speak with Cid. The blond pilot took one look at his associate, and the cigar went tumbling right out of his mouth.

"What the hell happened to _you_?" demanded Cid, hastily bending down to retrieve his stogy. "Looks like you've been through a goddamned war zone!"

"You aren't entirely wrong in that observation," panted the engineer. He had his special night vision goggles hanging around his neck, and he favored his right leg a bit as he approached. "Let's get this thing in the sky, Highwind. Your takeoff authorization could be yanked at any moment, if we linger."

"I thought you were gonna stay here and fuck with 'em some more."

Reeve shook his head. "Can't risk it. They knew I was planning to return to Junon after only a brief visit, so maybe my alibi will still hold up. I'd like to think I've given Rufus no reason to suspect me."

"Yeah, well what you'd like to think and what's reality ain't necessarily the same things, Reeve. Might want to make yourself scarce for a while, 'till this shit blows over." Cid flipped a few switches and pulled a lever, and the airship began its ascent.

Reeve braced himself against the railing surrounding the pilot's station. "And me suddenly vanishing without a trace won't look suspicious at all, will it?"

"Then give up this farce and just come out in the open," suggested Cid. "Ya know I hate all this sneaking around like a snake in the bush, anyhow."

"It's not time, yet," insisted Reeve. "If I can still maintain my cover, I will. Just get us to the Temple, and we'll go to Junon from there."

Cid shrugged. "You're the boss."

* * *

Sephiroth regarded the girl curiously as the airship carried them back to his kingdom. She sat alone quietly, looking like she might strike out at anyone who came too close. He'd overheard Reeve speak her name, and he wondered. Every time she looked at him, she quickly looked away as if afraid he might swallow her whole. Perhaps she knew who he was and perhaps not, but there was little doubt that one glance at his eyes and features gave him away as inhuman.

"Lazard," he murmured to the human sitting beside him, half asleep in the leather chair. Tuesti managed to procure his own airship to take him and his advisor back to the forest lands, and the passenger cabin was quite luxurious.

"Mm?" Lazard lifted his head off the back of the recliner and regarded him sleepily, his aristocratic features void of the glasses he usually wore.

Sephiroth nodded covertly at the girl curled up on a recliner on the other side of the cabin. "Find out if she's from Nibelheim, won't you? I have a suspicion that I need confirmed."

Lazard looked at the girl, and he nodded. The seraph almost felt bad for asking him to do this when he was clearly so worn out—especially when he limped as he approached her—but he needed to know. He doubted he would be received well, if he attempted to interact with her himself.

* * *

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Tifa looked up to see the handsome young blond man that had been sitting with the Seraph, standing over her. He looked tired and a little haggard, but dignified. "Yes?"

"May I?" He gestured at the seat beside her, and she nodded, casting another wary glance at the silver-haired being on the other side of the cabin.

He sat down with a grunt. "Excuse me for being blunt," said the blond, "but are you from Nibelheim?"

"Yes. They took me to make my father cooperate with their organization," she explained with a sigh. "Everyone seems really interested in me, for some reason."

Her eyes strayed to the seraph again, and she shivered and rubbed her arms. She didn't know much about the Seraphim, but she could guess which of the three this was, based on what she'd heard. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered at last. She might have just gone from a bad situation into a worse one, by agreeing to board this ship.

"Not to be sacrificed, if that's what concerns you." The blond man smiled engagingly at her, though the expression was laced with exhaustion. "I don't know what you've heard, but the Seraphim aren't the monsters some make them out to be. I'm Lazard Deusericus." He offered her his hand.

"Tifa Lockheart," she supplied, seeing no point in withholding it now. She shook his hand. "Can...I go home?"

Recognition bled into his sculpted features when she said her name, and he shook his head. "I'm afraid that isn't a wise option for you to take, Miss Lockheart. People are looking for you, and if ShinRa learns that you're back in Nibelheim again, they'll only come for you again."

"Who's looking for me," she demanded, "besides ShinRa?"

"Your friend Cloud Strife."

Hope flared in her heart. She couldn't think of any reason why this man would know a poor swordsman from a small village on another continent. "Cloud? Where is he?"

"He's with the Wolf Lord of Gongaga," answered Lazard readily. "He came to him from Nibelheim to plead his aid in getting you out of ShinRa's hands."

She remembered Cloud insisting that he would get her free, one way or the other. "He's...really safe?" She'd spent all this time worrying, imagining him lying dead somewhere between Nibelheim and Gongaga, little more than a pile of sun-bleached bones, by now.

Lazard nodded. "We can arrange for you to be taken to him, once we've arrived at our home and recovered."

She smiled tremulously, and then to her horror, she began to cry. "I'm sorry," she said, sniffling and fanning at her eyes in a poor attempt to dry the tears. "I'm just...it's been..."

He started to reach into the torn pocket at the breast of his shirt, and then he frowned and looked around helplessly. "There," he said awkwardly, patting her on the shoulder. "You're safe, now. I would offer you a handkerchief, but I seem to have lost mine."

She almost laughed, at that. He looked like he'd been dragged through a river and wrung out, and there he was trying to find a hanky for her. He was clearly a man of good breeding—very different from the sort of people she was used to in Nibelheim. Not that they were filthy pigs, but they were of a more simple lifestyle.

"Thank you, I'm okay," she sighed when she collected herself. She hesitantly looked at the seraph across the room again. "He's...your companion?"

"He is my king," corrected Lazard, "and he's the Wolf Lord's 'brother', in a manner of speaking. You needn't be afraid of him. You aren't his enemy."

She swallowed and bit her lip. "Could I...have something to drink?"

"Of course," he agreed solicitously. He stood up with another grunt, and she regretted asking when she noticed his limp and the bloody hole in his pinstripe pants. "Come with me. I'll take you to the refreshment room."

"Oh, maybe I could just wait."

"Nonsense. Let me just show you the way, and you can help yourself."

She got up and accompanied him, not wishing to insult him with further arguments.

* * *

"She's the girl we were meant to negotiate for in the first place," Lazard confirmed, after showing Tifa to the refreshment area and returning to Sephiroth's side. He heard a peculiar sound from his companion, and he looked at him in puzzlement. "Is everything all right, Highness?"

"Certainly." Sephiroth made the sound again, and then he began to smile. As Lazard stared in wonderment, the Serpent King began to chuckle low in his throat, with genuine amusement. He'd heard him laugh before, but he generally only did it in the privacy of their bed chambers. Now he seemed unable to contain it, and soon, the seraph was laughing out loud, displaying rather sharp canines in a white-toothed grin.

"Sephiroth," murmured Lazard, fighting a smile of his own in reaction as he dared to speak his lover's given name, "are you _certain_ you're all right?"

"I'm appreciating the irony," answered Sephiroth after chuckling for a few moments. "How wonderfully ShinRa's efforts have backfired on them. Surely you can see the comedic value of this, Lazard."

Despite his pain and exhaustion, Lazard began to join his soft laughter. Yes, he could certainly appreciate the irony. Even more amusing was the thought of how disappointed they would be when and if they ever discovered that the keystone they had was only a fake.

* * *

Genesis got word of Sephiroth and Lazard's escape sometime after midnight, after they arrived safely back at the Temple of the Ancients. The Serpent King contacted him immediately and told him to abandon any plans he had to gather the ransom. They agreed to discuss what to do in response to ShinRa's treachery in a few days, after some rest and recuperation. He immediately tried to contact Zackary in Gongaga, but of course, he got no response. Sighing with frustration, he gave up on it for now and he turned his thoughts back to Angeal.

Now that the immediate threat to Sephiroth was over with, he had to decide when and if he told his fellow Seraphim about the truth of Angeal's nature. There was still a chance he could die during the transition, and the additional smaller wing beneath the larger one, combined with the white color, was unusual. Genesis left the communication chamber and he returned to his bed chamber. He thought of climbing into bed with his slave—who was heavily medicated to manage the pain. Looking at the increased growth of the wings, Genesis decided to search through his old volumes and look up the lore of his kind.

There was a reason why some Seraphim had a white wing and others had black, and it had something to do with polarity and soul mates. For the first time, the redhead began to entertain the notion that perhaps Angeal was his "split-apart", as Zack would so charmingly call it.

* * *

-To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 9

* * *

Author's note: This chapter has been censored to comply with FFnet's censorship policies. To read the full, uncut version, go to Archive of Our Own or Ygallery, both of which are linked under my profile.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

When asked where he was when the prisoners broke out, Reeve said that he was in the process of gathering some things from his office. He said that he was there when the lights went out, but he presumed it was just a common generator failure and the maintenance team would be capable of handling it. He took his scheduled flight out and he'd been in Junon, ever since. He feigned shock and surprise when Rufus told him about the attack and subsequent escape of three prisoners.

"It had to be politically motivated," suggested Reeve over the phone. "Whoever orchestrated this obviously must have ties with the Seraphim, Mr. President."

Vincent was pacing before him on the other side of his desk, and the engineer found it distracting. He gestured at the seraph and pointed at the metallic handset in his hand, raising his brows meaningfully. The handsome creature stopped his pacing obligingly and took a seat on the lounge, reclining gracefully and crossing one booted ankle over the other. Reeve found _that_ even more distracting than the pacing, and his eyes traveled the length of the long, lean-muscled legs, encased in the form-fitting black pants. He stared at the creamy throat, exposed through the open collar of the red silk shirt he wore. He almost missed Rufus' response.

"—terrorists. Our one real advantage is gone now, Reeve. If you can think of _anything_ unusual you might have seen or heard before you left, it would be helpful."

Reeve tore his eyes off of his tempting lover, purposely staring down at the flowing script of Vincent's writing on the open journal before him on the desk. He'd already read the latest entry, of course. Vincent had no compunctions about sharing his written thoughts and plans with him. There was no telling what sort of thoughts he kept to himself, however. He retained an aura of mystery even now, and Reeve still wasn't entirely sure what else motivated the bat-winged seraph. He couldn't shake the feeling that there were some personal stakes for Vincent in all of this.

"I'm sorry, President Shinra," Reeve said, his thoughts careening to Vincent regardless of how hard he tried to keep them on the conversation at hand. Did he _have_ to wear his hair loose, today? The silky, black mass cascaded over his shoulders and Reeve wanted to run his fingers through it. "If I think of anything, I'll be sure to let you know. My mind was mostly occupied with other things."

Reeve winced. His thoughts were getting too jumbled. "Anyhow, I should probably get back to work. We've nearly completed another submarine, and I want to oversee the final touches."

"Of course," agreed Rufus—never one to argue when it came to military progress. "When can we expect the first fleet to be finished?"

Reeve groaned inwardly. He'd already given Rufus a time estimate. He was getting tired of repeating himself, but he could hardly blame the man for getting impatient, after losing three important political prisoners. ShinRa could very well be in for a world of hurt, if and when the Serpent King and his brethren decided a lesson needed to be learned.

"I'll see what I can do about hastening the process, so that we can have it finished by the end of the week," promised Reeve. "We can't rush it _too_ much, though. Better to have reliable equipment than vessels that will collapse on its passengers."

"True," sighed the president. "I just hope you understand how important it is that we bolster our military forces, in a time like this."

_~It's your own bloody fault,~_ thought the engineer, but he kept that observation to himself. Rufus was already tense enough, and any suggestion of blame from him might cause the president to begin revisiting his questions of Reeve's whereabouts the evening before.

"I understand," assured the engineer, "and I'll do my best to make this happen faster, for you. Goodnight, Sir."

"Goodnight, Mr. Tuesti."

Reeve hung up the phone on the cradle and he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I almost feel sorry for the bastard."

"He brought it on himself," reminded the deep, silken voice from the lounge. "You only did as directed…and you did it well. I'm pleased."

Reeve looked up from the journal, his gaze roving over Vincent's form again. The dark gunman raised an elegant, black brow at him. "Well?"

Understanding the invitation for what it was, Reeve got out of his seat without hesitation, and he approached the lounge. He bent over the reclining being, holding his gaze. "You know, I was very lucky."

"Yes, you were." Vincent's lips curved slightly at one corner—the only expression to animate the marble features. "And I'm prepared to reward you."

Reeve let his gaze wander again, and he decided Vincent needed a little more fresh air. He began to flick open the buttons of the red shirt, and he closed in on him and nuzzled his neck and ear. He was already swelling in his pants, and Vincent hadn't even touched him back, yet. The seraph allowed him to take the initiative—as he generally did as a reward for good work. Their relationship involved a fairly healthy exchange of roles, but Vincent made Reeve work for the right to be the aggressor.

He felt the long fingers sift through his hair, stroking pleasantly against his scalp as he kissed and nuzzled Vincent's smooth skin. He smelled like spices and honey, to Reeve. He loved that scent. He got the shirt unbuttoned the rest of the way and he pulled it open to expose the pale, toned chest. He ran a possessive hand over the smooth expanse, taking his time with it and tweaking the pink nipples in passing. The sigh of pleasure he got in response was encouraging, and Reeve eased onto the piece of furniture, mindful of how narrow it was. He didn't want to spoil the encounter by tumbling off the damned thing.

Vincent parted his thighs to allow Reeve's hips to settle between them as the engineer stretched out on top of him. His hands caressed Reeve's bowed back, and he murmured softly to him.

"Your elbow is on my hair."

"Oh, sorry."

Reeve adjusted his position so that he wasn't pulling said hair, and he resumed kissing the seraph. His lips trailed over his jaw and to his mouth, and he traced those sinfully velvety lips with his tongue before easing it in to explore. He groaned into Vincent's mouth when the seraph began to do some exploring of his own, slipping one hand between their bodies to boldly cup his swelling groin.

"Eager, are we?" murmured Vincent against the amorous mouth with a smile.

"Always," agreed Reeve, grinning in return.

* * *

A couple of days later, Sephiroth tried to organize a meeting between Seraphim at the Temple of the Ancients. Genesis suggested it would be easier to discuss the matter in Menephera, since Sephiroth's capital was so protected from the possibility of invasion.

"Zackary is close by and the people are still uneasy," Genesis said to him. "I know it's inconvenient for you, after everything you and your consort have endured, but yours _is_ the most protected kingdom."

After some thought on the matter, Sephiroth agreed with him. Now wasn't the time for Genesis and Zackary to leave their territory. There was no sign of ShinRa opposition on his boarders yet—which came as no surprise. Rufus was bold, but he was far from stupid. He made his arrangements—this time with heavier artillery equipped on his airship just in case—and he and Lazard left for Menephera.

* * *

The meeting took place in the council chambers of Genesis' palace, once both of the other Seraphim arrived and settled in. The redhead sighed, his vivid gaze flitting between Sephiroth and Angeal. "Well, it's clear that we can't let this deed go unpunished. If we do nothing, ShinRa will undoubtedly presume we've become soft."

Sephiroth nodded. "The question of what actions are appropriate remains." Shall we move in on ShinRa lands and begin a campaign to crush them, once and for all, or shall we take a more indirect route and repay their treachery in kind?"

"You mean trick them?" Zack frowned. "How? Rufus Shinra practically _invented_ subterfuge."

"You've learned a new word," remarked Genesis absently. "I'm impressed."

Zack sighed. "Can you for _once_ not pick on me? I thought this was supposed to be a serious discussion."

"Yes, he's behaving himself with remarkable maturity, today," Sephiroth noted with a dry smirk. "Be charitable, Genesis."

The Pharaoh scolded himself inwardly, but he didn't admit aloud that they were right. "I think what Sephiroth means, Zackary, is that perhaps it's time to consider employing an agent to work his or her way into the ranks of ShinRa, to get close to the President. Once that happens, well, I don't think the rest bears saying."

"Assassination," guessed Zack with a sigh. He shook his dark head. "I don't like it. That's a coward's way of handling things."

Angeal would have said the exact same thing, and Genesis wondered if the big man's honor might have rubbed off on Zack, during his time in Banora with him. Thinking of Angeal made that curious tightness return to his chest, and his mind went to the lore he'd spent most of the night pouring over. He was tired, frustrated and heartsick, and he just wanted to come to a solid resolution and find his rest.

"Perhaps we don't assassinate Rufus himself," suggested Genesis after some thought. "Instead, we take out his closest advisors as a message: Reap what you sow...in abundance."

Sephiroth nodded, his emerald gaze flashing with amusement. He relaxed in the lounge he sat in, lying on his side with lazy grace. "I approve."

"Well I _don't_," argued Zack, and he began to pace in circles. "There's got to be a better way to handle this."

Genesis sighed, dropping one hand to the arm of his throne chair with exasperation, while gesturing at Zack as if demonstrating to an audience. "Why must you always be the problem child? Well then, Pup, what do _you_ suggest? We're listening."

Zack started biting his nails absently—a habit that made both of his more sophisticated companions cringe a little. "What if we send someone in to scope out the situation with ShinRa _and_ with Wutai? We don't have to kill anyone right away; we just need to keep tabs on what they're up to. In the meantime, if you really want to, you can start moving in on ShinRa lands the _honest_ way, and give them a fair chance to fight back. I think your message will still get across—especially if you let some of their soldiers go to carry it back to the president personally."

Genesis and Sephiroth looked at each other. The latter spoke first. "You realize, Zackary, that your way could result in the death of civilians? Ours may be more underhanded, but the only targets will be the President's council. Field battles tend to result in dead bystanders, killed in friendly fire before they can make it safely away from the combat zone."

Genesis nodded. "He's correct. However, your idea has merit too, Zackary. Word of these events will get out, and the communities under ShinRa's control will be frightened. Perhaps combat needn't even occur. Some of them may willingly surrender and defect without a fight."

"See, there you go," said the brunet with determination. "Nobody has to die unless they put up a fight, and even as cold as you two can be toward humans, I know you'll do what you can to protect the commoners."

"Who says I intend to encroach in ShinRa territory?" Genesis demanded, raising a brow. "This wrong was committed against Sephiroth, on his continent. I'll lend warriors to his cause if he chooses to take enemy territory, but my primary concern is defending my borders—at least for now. This meeting is to discuss what Sephiroth wants to do and how we can aid him."

"Right." Zack nodded, and he looked at Sephiroth with one of those hopeful expressions on his face. "Seph? How about it?"

The Serpent King's gaze settled on Zack in quiet contemplation. After a moment, he spoke. "We'll try it your way first, Zackary. I too prefer not to resort to cowardly tactics, as you call them. If ShinRa fails to comprehend my message, then I may revisit Genesis' idea."

Zack relaxed. "Thanks, Seph. You'll be glad you did it this way...I promise. So Gen, how is Angeal holding up?" He looked at the redhead, content with the outcome of the meeting. "Can I visit him?"

Genesis hesitated, at war with himself. Sephiroth noticed his uncertainty and he sat up slowly, easing his legs over the side of the lounge. "You've been troubled," he observed, "and not just about our political situation. Is your human in danger of dying, Genesis?"

The Pharaoh snorted. "My 'human'. Yes." He sighed. "There's something I think the both of you should know. I have good reason for avoiding a heavy war campaign, right now." He got out of his throne and he started for the chamber exit.

"Come," he called over his shoulder to his companions. "Come to my chambers, and see for yourself. Something exceptional has happened, and I know I can't keep it from you forever. A decision has to be made."

Zack and Sephiroth looked at one another in puzzlement, before moving to follow him.

* * *

Zack's eyes were so wide, it was a wonder they weren't rolling out of his skull. "He's...he's a seraph, like us!"

Looking down at the man lying prone on the bed, Sephiroth shook his head. He gently traced the wing growth with his fingertips. "Not exactly. It's white, and he's growing a second, smaller one beneath it."

Zack shrugged. "Okay, but feather color shouldn't matter. The wing's the thing, and he's got one. Gen, how about his eyes?"

"He has the glow," answered the Pharaoh softly, his sculpted features unreadable as he stared down at his slave. "It only occurred randomly, before now. In addition, he's physically stronger than anyone I have ever encountered—including us. He held back a falling building block when its restraints snapped whilst the temple of Minerva was being repaired. It was one of the largest ones—the sort that could crush a line of men beneath it, if they didn't move aside quickly. Angeal stopped its trajectory and held it back all by himself."

"Such a feat would have taken near ten ordinary men," observed Sephiroth thoughtfully, "and possibly two of us."

Genesis nodded. "Just so. I can't begin to guess at what other gifts he may have. I've kept him here to prevent word getting out, until I decide what to do with him."

Zack frowned at him. "What do you mean by _that_? He's one of us now. You can't be talking about having him executed or banished, Gen. Not even you can be that cold."

Genesis looked annoyed. "Did I say _anything_ of the sort? Pull your head out of your ass, Zackary. When I say I need to decide what to do with him, I mean his future as one of the Seraphim. Obviously, his current status is no longer acceptable."

Sephiroth could guess where this was going. "You want our advice on possible territories?"

Genesis nodded. "I...admit that my judgment is compromised. I'm exhausted."

"Worried as hell too, I'll bet," Zack said sympathetically. Genesis' glare had no bite to it...not now. The heavily medicated man on the bed moaned in his sleep, and the Pharaoh impulsively stroked his hair and murmured to him. Zack looked at Sephiroth and the silver-haired seraph looked back, one brow arched with intrigue. It was obvious to both of them that sometimes, legend could become reality.

Zack pulled Sephiroth aside while Genesis was occupied with trying to ease his slave's suffering. "If they aren't soul-mates, I'll eat sand," he muttered.

Sephiroth looked at Genesis and Angeal, and he nodded. "It seems our brother has found what we all thought couldn't be."

"Makes you wonder how many more could be out there," Zack whispered, "and not even know what they are. If Angeal could transition this late, there could be more. Maybe _our_ soul-mates are out there somewhere, too."

"Aren't your blond and my water maiden enough for you, Zackary?" Sephiroth demanded dryly, "and even if I found a Seraphim match, I personally have no interest in putting aside my consort." He nodded at Genesis. "His situation is different, however."

"Tell me about it," sighed Zack. His blue-violet gaze went to the Pharaoh, thoughtfully. "I've never seen him this...you know..."

"Human?" suggested Sephiroth. "It's disturbing, I agree."

"I didn't say _that_," objected Zack, "but yeah, he's showing a vulnerability I've never seen in him before. Should we be worried about that?"

Sephiroth smirked. "He's making himself sick with pride. He's smitten, and he tortures himself over it."

"Sounds like you, when things got serious with your consort." Zack scratched his chin. "Why is it you and Gen try so damned hard to block off your emotions, that way? Sometimes that stuff can make you stronger, you know."

"Or it can distract you and cause you to make foolish mistakes," insisted Sephiroth, "which is what Genesis and I strive to avoid. Enough of this, though. Now isn't the time to debate the finer points of love and emotion."

Zack nodded in agreement.

* * *

They returned to the council chambers to discuss the best course of action, should Angeal make it through his transition alive. None of them had seen a seraph go through the change this late in life before, and it was up to fate to determine whether Angeal would survive or not. When the meeting was finished and a decision was settled on, Zack stopped Genesis on the way out of the chamber.

"Are you _sure_ about this? I can't talk you out of it?"

Genesis paused and he looked at Zack with unusually somber, aqua eyes. He nodded. "I'm sure. This is the only path that makes sense to me, Zackary. It's the only way to resolve all doubt. Yours and Sephiroth's opinions and ideas have helped me, and I'm grateful for that."

Zack stared at him speechlessly for a moment as he left. "Did...did he just _thank_ me?" He scratched his head, watching the retreating Pharaoh from behind. "Wow, you've really got it bad, don't you, Gen?"

* * *

The transition finally completed by nightfall. Angeal lifted his groggy head from the pillow, disoriented and confused. It was like the first time he found himself in the Pharaoh's private chambers, and he wondered if he'd been beaten again. He couldn't recall what he might have done to earn any lashes, but his back ached terribly. He frowned and he struggled to sit up, wincing at the soreness of his muscles. He was weak, and he'd broken out in a sweat at some point. The sheets were damp with the perspiration, and his body glistened with it.

Something felt...off. Angeal worked his shoulders, finding an odd tightness in the right blade and beneath it. The doors to the chambers opened and he twisted in the bed to see Genesis stride in. His heart predictably beat harder at the sight of his Pharaoh, and he tried to get out of the bed to greet him. He fell to the floor immediately, taken by surprise by the utter lack of strength in his legs. Genesis was at his side almost immediately, and Asim shut the doors to give them privacy.

"You've suffered through quite a trial," explained the seraph as he helped Angeal to his feet and urged him to sit down on the bed.

Angeal felt the new limb, then. It bumped against one of the posters of the bed, and his frown of confusion deepened. "What's happened to me? All I remember is feeling pain in my back, and terrible dizziness."

"Just try to relax, and I'll explain everything to you," assured Genesis. "Practice that maddening stoicism of yours, Angeal. You're going to need it."

The big man looked at him, and for the first time, he noticed that colors seemed more vivid, and his eyesight was sharper. "Tell me what's happened to me. Please."

Genesis fetched a cup of water for him and bade him to drink it, while he explained.

* * *

Even Angeal's mental fortitude was put to the test, once he learned the truth and felt his new wing. Genesis explained to him that his true parents had to have been Seraphim, and like the others, they either perished or fostered him off on humans. He assured him that flight would come naturally, even if it required a bit of practice, at first. He had Asim bring a bowl of soup for him to eat at first, until his stomach was ready to handle more solid food again. He urged him to drink plenty of water as he answered his questions to the best of his ability.

When Angeal finished eating, Genesis had a hip bath brought to his chambers so that he could help him bathe the sweat and illness from his body. Asim changed out the bedding while they did that, and Angeal's modesty was even more amplified by the strange, supernatural appendages growing from his body. Genesis commanded him to be still and stop fussing, when he attempted to tuck his wing in close and cover his groin from view. To his credit, Asim kept his gaze off of the couple, doing his task with brisk efficiency and then leaving them alone again. Afterwards, Genesis massaged Angeal's back and helped him retract the wing.

The Pharaoh was quite patient, helpful and encouraging with him...even loving. It was such a change from the guarded creature Angeal had come to know that he grew suspicious almost immediately. If he weren't trying to cope with the drastic changes to his life, he would have interrogated Genesis about his behavior. As it stood, he was far too invested in staying calm over his situation to go into any length inquiries about Genesis' attitude.

"How will this effect my status?" Angeal finally asked, once his wing was retracted and he was dressed in a clean loincloth. "I need time to learn how to control this thing, Pharaoh. I assume you don't want me revealing the wing in public, and I—"

"Shhh," interrupted Genesis, placing two fingers over Angeal's lips to still them. He shook his head, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the braziers. "No more questions, for tonight. Don't think about it anymore, Angeal."

He was about to ask how it was possible for him to "not think about" his situation, but Genesis kissed him then, demonstrating that such a thing was indeed possible. Even now, with all the questions of his life exacerbated through a strange condition, a kiss from Genesis could vaporize all coherent thought quickly. Angeal put his arms around him impulsively, and a part of him was happy to sink into the moment and forget all about what was happening to him. It was easy to pretend, if only for one night, that he and Genesis were simply a young couple in love. He could deal with harsh reality another time.

"No," murmured Genesis when Angeal began to explore his body. He pulled away and caught the brunet's wrists, stopping his actions. "Just let me touch you, for now. I want to know every inch of you, before this night is finished."

Accustomed by now to taking orders from him, Angeal complied with reluctance. He settled for putting his hands on the redhead's hips for now, and he gazed at him curiously as Genesis began to caress his body. "There's something you aren't telling me," murmured Angeal with certainty.

"Shhh," insisted Genesis, pressing another kiss against his lips. "Later. Get into bed."

* * *

He was very, very thorough. First, Genesis rubbed scented, flavored oils into his skin that smelled of almonds and milk. Angeal couldn't be bothered to mind as the strong fingers kneaded muscles that were still sore from the fever. His strength was slowly returning, but he estimated it would take another day or two of rest. Genesis' attentions felt _so_ good, and despite the nagging anxiety he felt over his situation, Angeal began to relax. His relaxation was replaced with a different sort of tension as Genesis deftly removed his skirt and tossed it to the floor, before straddling his hips, nude except for the jewelry he wore.

Angeal settled his hands on the redhead's hips and he stared up at him from his supine position, admiring the way the firelight from the braziers highlighted his lightly bronzed skin. He wanted so badly to touch him; to stroke the length of his bare erection and fondle his nipples to hardness. He refrained from acting on his desires, employing self-discipline that another man might have lacked, in his position.

"So beautiful," Genesis murmured, his glowing gaze caressing Angeal's body as he rubbed more oil into his chest and stomach.

Angeal could have easily said the same thing about him. His breath caught as Genesis bent over and began to lick the oil from his body. He couldn't resist stroking the auburn hair with one hand as the talented tongue circled his right nipple. Genesis' hands stroked his biceps, and his lips pressed kisses on his oiled skin between licks. He sucked on his left nipple for a moment, swirling his tongue around it to give Angeal tingling pleasure. One of his hands grazed the big man's rib cage, gliding over his torso and hip. Genesis lifted up a little as he fumbled with the fastenings of Angeal's loincloth, and after a moment, it joined his skirt on the floor.

"Mmm," murmured the redhead against Angeal's chest. "I think you make this oil taste better, Angeal."

He shifted on top of him and he kissed his way down, his tongue tracing the angles and contours of his physique as he went. It delved into his belly button briefly, before circling the outer edges of it. He moved on to the line of his hips, licking the V shape of them before reaching his thighs. Angeal tensed involuntarily, and he couldn't resist a sigh of disappointment when his swollen erection wasn't treated to the same attention. He felt Genesis smile against his thigh, and then the Pharaoh sat up and reached for the bottle of oil again. His eyes stared down at him as he dribbled more onto his palm, replaced the bottle, and rubbed his hands together.

"I told you," he reminded in a low, sultry tone, "I want to touch you all over, before we begin. I'm pleased with your cooperation, my determined one."

"It's not easy," admitted Angeal huskily. He stroked Genesis' hair again. "I want to touch you."

"Soon," promised the redhead.

He began to rub and massage Angeal's thighs, one at a time. The big man tried to relax, shutting his eyes and focusing on the feel of those deft, elegant hands on his body. Genesis' hands were calloused from use of his sword, the bow he sometimes used when hunting and the work he did on occasion. Arrogant though he could be, he wasn't the sort of ruler to sit idle while his people did all of the work. Angeal respected him for that…admired him, even. He claimed it was all for practicality, but Angeal knew that deep down, at least some part of Genesis loved his people and wanted to see them thrive. If only he wouldn't be so quick to behead the ones that overstepped themselves. At least he hadn't killed anyone since that taskmaster—to the best of Angeal's knowledge.

* * *

The next morning was a familiar and welcome routine for Angeal. Upon waking, Genesis helped him retract his wings again and they went to a private bathing room together to get cleaned up. By the time they returned to Genesis' chambers, the bed was made with fresh sheets and breakfast was waiting for them. Genesis was unusually subdued throughout the meal, and Angeal noticed how often his gaze drifted to the collar around his throat. He seemed deep in thought, and Angeal could only think of one reason for his melancholy.

"I'll learn to adapt," he assured him, daring to reach across the table to lay a hand over his. "I trust you to help me, my Pharaoh."

Genesis looked down at the hand covering his, and he compressed his lips. He pulled his hand away and stood up, pacing in agitation. The red, gold-embroidered loincloth adorning his hips fluttered with his motions as he walked the length of the spacious bedchamber.

"I'm not…your Pharaoh. Not anymore."

Angeal put down the date he'd been about to eat, and he wiped his hands off before getting out of his chair. He approached the agitated redhead, even more disturbed by his recent behavior. He stepped in front of him as he turned to pace again, and he put his hands on his shoulders to stop him. He stared into the bright, turquoise eyes with a frown, trying to make sense of his words.

"Genesis," he said softly, dropping all formalities, "I don't understand. You said you would explain how this is going to affect my role in the kingdom, but you haven't done it yet. What do you mean, 'you're not my Pharaoh, anymore'?"

Genesis' gaze fixated on the collar around Angeal's throat. He reached up and traced it, tilting his head to one side. "I mean this no longer belongs here."

His eyes glowed, and the brunet felt warmth against his skin as the metal of the collar heated up. The snap of the object opening startled Angeal a little. The seams of the custom-crafted collar bent as Genesis pulled it open and removed it from Angeal's neck. He regarded the object once he held it in his hands, and then he set it aside on a nearby end table.

"You're free of me, now. I'll make arrangements to transport you back to Banora, which should by rights be your ruling territory."

Angeal shook his head, frowning fiercely in confusion. "Why are you doing this?"

Genesis' gaze met his. "Because no seraph should ever be a slave. You are a king, Angeal…born to rule. I will withdraw my claim on Banora and the Mideel islands, and hand it over to you. How you choose to govern the territory is entirely up to you, but know that I and the other Seraphim are always available to offer advice and aid, if necessary. I've already enchanted a communication sphere for you, so that you may contact us easily without need of human devices—though Zackary has convinced me to install more telephone lines as a precaution. You should choose someone you can trust as your royal advisor, once you return home."

Angeal took a step back, and he rubbed his temples. "This is…you're sending me away?"

"I'm giving you your due," corrected Genesis, swallowing. "What you deserve. Being free of me will allow you to grow into the leader you're meant to be, Angeal."

The big man stepped closer again, and he rubbed Genesis' arms. "What if I don't _want_ to be free of you?"

The redhead looked down. "You have no choice. You must learn to fly, Angeal—figuratively as well as literally. You can't do that as my slave."

"You can't teach me how to fly here?" persisted Angeal. This was so much _worse_ than waking up to the realization that he wasn't human after all. If he'd doubted it before, he knew the truth of his feelings now. He was in love with Genesis, without a doubt.

"Physical flight will come quite naturally to you, as I said before." Genesis sighed and he stroked Angeal's hair, looking at his features as if memorizing them. "But you can't learn to rule if you aren't free. This is what's best, Angeal. Respect my decision. A little over a month ago, you would have jumped at the chance to be a free man again, and return home."

"Things were different, a little over a month ago." Angeal put his arms around him, suffering a torrent of feelings that he couldn't cope with. "Genesis, I've learned to be happy here, and I don't want to leave your side."

"You must," insisted the Pharaoh, "and I must let you go, no matter how it pains me to do so."

It was all too much for Angeal to take. He released his lover and he strode for the doors.

"Where are you going?"

Angeal paused at the exit, and he looked back at the other seraph with haunted blue eyes. "Outside, for a start. Not that it's any of your concern, now."

Genesis shut his eyes and turned his head away.

* * *

-To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 10

* * *

Author's note: This chapter has been censored to comply with FFnet's restrictions against MA content. You can read the uncensored version at Archive of our own or Ygallery, both of which are linked under my profile here.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

"So, are you going to go to Gongaga with us?" Zack asked the pretty brunette who had come with Sephiroth and Lazard. She was visiting in his chambers, relaxing after her ordeal.

Tifa considered him with wary brown eyes. The pigment of her irises was unusual, resulting in a color that wasn't quite red, but not a standard brown. It reminded Zack a little of cherry wood.

"I'd prefer to return to Nibelheim," she finally answered, taking a grape from the bowl of fruit sitting on the floor in the center of the cushion pile. "I'm really grateful for what you and the Serpent King have done for me, but my Papa must be horribly worried about me."

"Um, Tifa," Cloud said uncomfortably, "You can't go back home. Not yet."

"I know, they might come for me again," she sighed, "but I need to at _least_ let him know I'm okay! ShinRa can't hold me over his head, if he knows I'm not in their custody anymore."

"Maybe you ought to hold off on that," suggested Zack with a thoughtful frown.

"Why?"

He looked at her with unusual somberness. "Because if he knows you're not a captive anymore, he'll probably rebel against ShinRa's hold on your town."

She shrugged. "Probably, yes. Why shouldn't he? They don't own us."

"Because if he starts an uprising, people are going to get hurt," Zack pointed out, "maybe even killed. Unless you think you could convince him to play along with them until things change, maybe you should hold off on contacting him just yet, until ShinRa makes their next move."

"He's my father," she protested, and Cloud patted her shoulder soothingly.

"I know," Zack assured her, "and I know it's unfair, but think about the power these people have, and think about your community. They could come in and round everybody up, if Nibelheim causes too much trouble for them. I know you don't want that."

"Of course, I don't." She ate the grape she'd been holding and she held her hands out. "But what am I supposed to do? The president _has_ to know I'll try to make it back home, doesn't he? You said it yourselves; he'll probably send people looking for me and my father is going to find out they don't have me anymore, if they go to him asking questions."

"I don't think it's going to happen that way, and I'll tell you why." Zack took a sip from the goblet of mead sitting beside him, before continuing. "Rufus Shinra is a sneaky bastard. He'd never come out and be that obvious. He'll pretend he still has everything under control and he'll order his people to be hush-hush about it, until he's got more information. He'll probably have someone spy on your old man and the town, and report back to him if there's any sign of you."

She bit her lip and looked at Cloud uncertainly. He nodded, gazing back at her with earnest, sapphire eyes. "I think he's right, Tifa. Zack knows how ShinRa operates."

"And one thing I can tell you for _sure_ is that the president is underhanded," added Zack. "We got a harsh reminder of that when he managed to catch Sephiroth. Anyone that can get the drop on _him_ has more tricks up his sleeve than a snake oil salesman in a plague town. He's going to milk his hold on your father for all it's worth, and he won't give away the truth unless he decides it's time to toss the carrot and use the stick."

Tifa frowned. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means he's going to keep manipulating the people of Nibelheim to save his army the effort of occupying the town. That's going to buy us some time."

"Time for what?" she pressed curiously.

Zack paused and raised his brows. "Uh…I'm still working on that part, honeypot. It's not something we can rush into, but after what ShinRa did to Sephiroth, you can bet we're ready to start making some changes. We need to wait and see what their next move is, though."

He relaxed against the pillows behind him as Aerith came back into the bedchambers, carrying a pitcher of fresh water. He motioned invitingly to her and winked as she set the water down in the center of the cushion circle. "Thanks, Sweetheart. You didn't have to go through the trouble, though."

Aerith shrugged and she sat down gracefully beside him, folding her legs up beneath the loose, gauzy skirt she wore. "I don't mind. It would have felt awkward to me, to have a palace servant bring it."

"We're guests," he reminded her with a grin, putting an arm around her. "Let yourself be pampered, for a change."

Aerith smiled as he nuzzled her loose, flowing hair. Her jade eyes looked at Tifa with compassion. "I couldn't help but overhear some of what you were saying, when I returned. Zack considers Nibelheim to be under his protection now…at least, as much as it can be. The other Seraphim will back him and they've already got a bone to pick with ShinRa. At least, my king does."

Tifa looked at Zack, who nodded in agreement. "Gen and Seph might seem kind of cold, but that's their rigid code of royalty. We're a family and no matter how irritated they are with me, they'll back me up, just like Aerith said."

She gave the tiniest smile as the Wolf Lord reached for a kumquat and bit into the little yellow fruit. "I have to admit, _you_ aren't exactly what I thought you'd be."

He grinned and swallowed before answering. "I get that a lot." He gave Aerith a lingering kiss, and he got to his feet with a grunt. "I've got to excuse myself. I need to check in on an old friend. Tifa, if you need anything, you just ask. Gongaga is a lot warmer than Nibelheim at this time of year, but folks are friendly and laid back there, and you'll have Cloud, too."

She nodded and gave her friend a forced smile. "Thank you."

Zack squatted down quickly to give Cloud a shameless, open kiss on the lips before getting back up again and winking at him. "Get some fresh air while you can, okay? There's going to be another storm heading in, if Aerith's got it right."

Cloud and Tifa looked at Aerith questioningly, and she lowered her gaze shyly and shrugged, the beads of her halter clinking together. "I can sense these things, sometimes. Seraphim can too."

"Not _this_ one," snorted Zack. "I've got about as much weather sense as a rock. I don't know how Genesis does it, and Seph relies more on _you_ to tell him what the weather's going to be doing, even if he doesn't like to admit it."

Aerith chuckled softly. "Okay, so I've inherited my mother's connection to nature. It's not that unusual." She selected a plum and she bit into it, shutting her eyes with pleasure as she savored the tangy fruit.

"Tell that to Sephiroth," sighed Zack. "Which reminds me, I've got to go talk to him after I check on Angeal."

Aerith's expression sobered as she chewed and swallowed. "He's never going to agree, Zack."

"And I'm never going to give up asking," said the seraph in a determined voice. His vivid amethyst gaze raked over her with territorial fierceness that brought a flush to her face and made Tifa's eyebrows go up. "We'll see who backs down first."

With that said, he turned on his heel and left the three of them alone.

* * *

"Well, that was...disturbing," Tifa said aloud once they were alone in the chambers again.

"What was?" asked Cloud.

The brunette gave him a _look_. "Were you even in the same room, Cloud? He just looked at her like...like..."

"A wolf looking at his mate," Aerith interrupted with a smile, "and he's not willing to give me up. It's okay, Tifa. I know things are different where you come from, but Zack would never force me to do anything I didn't want to do. My heart belongs to him, but I'm a water maiden to the Serpent King, and his servant."

"Zack wants to take her with us to Gongaga," Cloud explained. "Er...I'm sorry Aerith...it's not my place to tell her."

She shook her head and poured some fresh water into a cup. "I don't mind, Cloud. To make a long story short, my king won't let me go because he wants to keep me safe. Gongaga isn't safe enough, to suit him."

Tifa thought about that beautiful, eerie seraph with the long silver hair. She'd only seen his face whilst on the airship. He and the other seraphs wore masks depicting their spirit animals when going out in the open, showing their faces only to their personal servants and advisors. Zack, she'd learned, did not enjoy the practice and he only wore his wolf-shaped mask when visiting his "brothers", by their request. Apparently he went around without it when he was at home.

"Why does the Serpent King care so much about the safety of one girl?" she asked. Her gaze went to Aerith again and her expression softened with understanding. "Oh...you mean, you and he are...he's taken you as his..."

She couldn't get the word "concubine" out, though the concept was nothing new to her. After all, there was a brothel in Nibelheim. From what she understood of concubines, however, they didn't get paid for their services and they weren't given a choice over the matter.

"Oh...not that!" Aerith looked as though she found the idea more than a little funny. She shook her head, her honey-colored hair swishing with her motions. "My king would never ask me to...do that. He's very strict about keeping his water maidens protected from unwanted advances, too. It's my gifts. He thinks I'm...special...so he doesn't want to risk sending me off to territory he doesn't think is sufficiently guarded."

"But if the look Zack just gave you is any indication," reasoned Tifa, "he wouldn't let anything within five feet of you...unless he's all talk."

"Oh, he's not all talk," Cloud assured her. "Believe me. If anything, he has impulse control issues."

Aerith giggled and nodded. "When Zack says he's going to do something, it usually gets done, one way or another. It doesn't always turn out how he wants it to, but here you are."

"Here I am?" Repeated Tifa, puzzled.

"Sephiroth got caught trying to negotiate for your release," obliged Cloud. "Zack organized it, because he figured if he went to ShinRa himself, they'd think he was just trying to get you to send you back home. He paid out of his own treasury for the ransom money."

"Oh." Tifa bit her lip. "I...I didn't know. His advisor told me you were looking for me, but I had no idea that was why they were there."

"That's why," answered Cloud with a nod.

"And look at how it turned out," Aerith pressed with a grin. "You're out of ShinRa's hands and my king and his consort made it back safely!"

"No offense, but your Zack had nothing to do with that part," Tifa reminded her. "A power shortage, my own determination and a strange man with grabby hands did all that."

Aerith looked confused. "Um, okay, but my original point was that Zack set out to get you free and if it weren't for the Serpent King's ship being there, you wouldn't have made it very far. Things tend to fall into place that way, for Zack."

Knowing a smitten woman when she saw one, Tifa chose not to argue further with Aerith. Zack was certainly handsome, charismatic and charming in a boyish way at times, but he couldn't likely twist fate the way Aerith suggested—seraph or not. Having seen the way her childhood friend interacted with the Wolf Lord, she guessed Cloud was just as smitten and she doubted he'd ever return to Nibelheim again, if it meant leaving Zack's side. She resisted a sigh and tried to make the best of the situation.

* * *

Zack stared at Genesis. "What do you mean, he's gone?"

The Pharaoh stared at his bookcase as if it held the answer to some riddle. "I mean he left my chambers to go outside. He didn't specify exactly _where_ he was going."

Genesis walked over to one of the end tables lining the walls, and he reached down to pick up an object resting on it. He caressed it with a troubled frown, not even glancing Zack's way. He'd never looked so...lost...before. Zack approached him and he looked down at the object in his hands.

"That's his collar," he said upon recognizing the ornate piece. A glance at the corner of the room near the bookcase had his eyebrows shooting up. "And that's the sword you said he designed himself. Shouldn't he have both of them with him?"

Angeal turned to regard the sword, and he cursed softly. "The imbecile. He shouldn't be unarmed in his state of mind. He could wander outside city territory and find himself attacked by something."

"Genesis, tell me what the hell's going on," demanded Zack.

"I explained my intentions to him," answered the redhead, "and he didn't take it well. One would think he would value freedom more than servitude, but..."

Zack sighed. "So he made it through the transition. Don't _scare_ me like that!" He ran his fingers through his dark spikes. "So you're really determined to do this, huh? Even now that you know he's one of us?"

"_Especially_ now that I know he's one of us," corrected Genesis. "Were he not, I would have no compunctions over keeping him as my slave. We've already discussed this."

"Yeah, but if he got mad when you told him you were setting him free, it seems to me like maybe he just wants to be with _you_. Have you thought of that?"

"I can't know this isn't a reaction brought about by modified behavior," answered Genesis. "I've trained him, Zackary. He's not by any means broken, but I have been very careful to reward good behavior and punish bad. It's possible that once he's tasted freedom again, he'll forget all about his notions that he could have been happy shackled to me."

Zack sighed. "Or maybe he'll just be miserable without you, and vice-versa. You two _click_, Genesis. It seems like everybody knows it except you."

"I'd love to debate this matter with you," snapped Genesis, his eyes blazing with sudden anger, "but right now, Angeal is out there fuming and though he isn't a hot-headed person by nature, he's angry and weakened from his transition. I suppose I'll have to call for Asim to locate him and bring him his weapon."

"Why can't _you_ do that?" demanded Zack with a frown.

Genesis sighed, his gaze going to the window and the shaded landscape beyond. "Because I doubt he wants to see me, right now."

Zack personally thought Genesis was probably _exactly_ the person Angeal wanted to see right now, but he hadn't seen the man in over a year and there was no telling how much he'd changed in that time. "I'll find it and bring it to him," offered the Wolf Lord. "And maybe I can talk some sense into him...which is going to be weird, because the Angeal Hewley _I_ got to know wasn't the kind of guy to go storming off in a fit. He was always the guy that calmed other people down."

"What can I say?" murmured Genesis archly, "I have a gift for inspiring reckless behavior in even the most level-headed of souls. While you fly through the currents of destiny by the seat of your pants, I manipulate them."

Zack shook his head and went for the sword. "Yeah, yeah...destiny...pants." He frowned and looked up from the heavy weapon as he lifted it with a grunt. "Wait a minute...did you just say you manipulate my pants?"

"Never mind, Zackary. Just find him."

* * *

As it turned out, Angeal wasn't all that hard to find. Pretty much everyone Zack spoke to knew exactly who he was talking about when he asked about him, and Zack was a natural at tracking. He found him on the west side of the city, approaching the walled boundary. The Banoran was hard to miss, with his towering height and his powerful build. His hair was longer than Zack remembered and his skin was tanned from sun exposure, but he still recognized him easily. It was a little jarring to see Angeal Hewley in a loincloth and a pair of sandals. Zack was used to him in pants and shirts of various kinds—mostly cargo pants and a crew shirt, with sturdy, military issue work boots or sneakers.

"Angeal!" He called out, jogging toward him. The big man paused briefly, but he didn't turn or stop. A little hurt by his apparent indifference, Zack picked up the pace and he tried again. "Angeal Hewley! Wait up!"

Angeal stopped in response to that, and he turned to regard Zack with a frown of suspicion. The desert wind was uncommonly moist with the approach of another storm, and it blew a few strands of dark, tousled hair over his right eye. With a start, Zack noted the glow in those somber, deep blue eyes; which made them appear slightly lighter in hue that he remembered.

"Who are you?" Angeal asked uncertainly as Zack closed the distance on boot-clad feet. He looked him up and down, taking note of his muscle shirt and pants. "You don't seem to be from around here. How do you know my name?"

Zack parted his lips to answer, but then Angeal's gaze fixated on the mask he wore over his face, and the big man knelt slowly. "Forgive me," he said, "You must be one of the Pharaoh's brethren. Did he send you for me?"

Zack didn't remember Angeal speaking in quite so formal a manner, but he reminded himself that the man had been living as a Menephera slave for several months, now. Angeal was a survivor, so it made sense for him to try and adopt some cultural speech patterns to fit in.

"Yes and no," answered Zack. "Here, get up. You don't need to do that." He made an uncomfortable warding gesture at the bigger man, disliking _anyone_ kneeling or bowing before him.

Angeal got back to his feet and he stared at Zack suspiciously again, as though he thought he was familiar, but couldn't quite identify him. Remembering the mask he still wore over his face, Zack cursed softly under his breath and lifted the bothersome thing off to show Angeal his face. Its removal was a welcome relief, and he relished the feel of the rain-heavy breeze against his skin.

"To hell with this," muttered Zack, combing his fingers through his spiked locks. He didn't give a damn if "commoners" saw his face or not. He'd put the silly mask back on before they got back in sight of the palace, to keep Gen and Seph from having a fit.

"Recognize me now?" he persisted, now that his face was uncovered. He grinned up at the taller man, squinting against the light as the sun chose that moment to peak out from behind the clouds. "It must have been about two years ago, when I came by your village. You interrogated me when you found me picking an apple, and we spent the whole day talking. Remember? I had to show you my wing to get you to believe me, when I said I was a seraph. I ended up staying for about a year and you helped me smooth out my fighting skills."

"Zack," murmured the Banoran, his expression softening with recognition upon seeing his face and hearing his explanation. "The puppy."

Zack made a face. "Why does everyone make that comparison?"

Angeal's expression _almost_ relaxed into a smile. "It might have something to do with your irrepressible daring and friendly nature. I assume I'm not the only one to draw that comparison."

Zack grimaced. "You've definitely been hanging out with Genesis."

Angeal offered a reserved, low-pitched chuckle. His gaze scanned Zack in a more relaxed manner and he sighed. "I never made the connection. I never even considered asking Genes…I mean the Pharaoh…if he had dealings with you. I should have known, given how few of you there are left. You're just so…different…from the other two."

"I'm the black sheep," answered Zack. "I never thought it might be you, when I started hearing about the Pharaoh's Banoran. I guess we both got surprised."

Lightning forked overhead and thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing their attention skyward. "Hmm," Zack said thoughtfully. "Come on, Angeal. I understand if you don't want to go back to the palace right now, but we shouldn't hang out in the open. There's a granary not far from the gates here. We can hole up in the storage shed and talk for a while, okay?"

Angeal considered it, and for a brief moment, Zack thought he saw a spasm of pain cross the handsome, chiseled features. He nearly sighed in sympathy for the man. He knew love when he saw it, even if Genesis was too prideful to admit his part of it. A hopeless romantic at heart, Zack liked to believe in happy endings. He wanted to see Angeal and Genesis get theirs, if he could. He was struggling enough to build one for him and Aerith, thanks to Sephiroth's reluctance to let her go.

* * *

"And that's how I came to be here," finished Angeal at last. He passed the water flask that Zack had thoughtfully brought with him back to the other seraph. "I'm still surprised to meet you here, Zack."

Zack shrugged. "I never mentioned my family to you before. I didn't want to bore you with the details, and I was too busy learning new things from you. Getting into all that would have started a looong trek into politics that I just didn't want to get into."

Angeal smirked. "I understand. I still don't fully comprehend the way things work here, though. The culture is so different from what I was raised in."

"You'd probably find Gongaga a lot more familiar," said Zack. "As a matter of fact, you ought to come and visit for a little while, before you head back to Banora. I'd love you to meet my family, and you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you want."

"Hmm." Angeal considered it.

"It's just south of here," persisted Zack. "Not far at all. When you're ready, I can have you flown to Banora on one of my airships."

He flinched involuntarily when thunder boomed overhead, making the very walls seem to vibrate. He glanced out the nearest little window at the downpour outside. "Looks like we might be stuck in here for a little while. Think it over, Angeal. I know you've got a lot on your plate, and I can help you figure some things out about yourself."

"Like what?" demanded Angeal with a shrug. "Genesis made it clear that I could figure it out on my own."

Zack sighed. "Well, Gen's not really thinking clearly. He's scared, that's all."

Angeal frowned, and he impulsively glanced out the window when lightning flashed nearby. "What could someone like him possibly have to be afraid of?" Genesis was probably the most confident individual Angeal had ever met…to the point of being downright cocky, at times.

"Love."

Angeal looked back at Zackary, staring openly at him. "I think you may be reading more into this than there is."

Zack got off the crate he was sitting on, and he stuck his hands into the pockets of his denim pants. He walked across the earthen floor of the storage room, pacing unconsciously. "Look, I've known Genesis for a long time—long enough to know how he thinks. Here's a quick history lesson for you: Gen's Dad fell for a human woman before he found his mother. She grew old and died. Mr. Rhapsodos never totally got over that, even after he found his seraph match. Who could blame him, right? He loved his first woman for decades, and you don't just forget a love like that. Anyhow, he drilled it into Genesis' head that he should never let himself fall for a human."

Angeal lowered his gaze thoughtfully. This was the first time he'd heard anything detailed about Genesis' parents, but it wasn't very surprising to learn that they discouraged him from loving humans. "I see. That explains a lot."

"Yeah." Zack took a seat again on the crate, scuffing his boots absently on the floor. "He was the only one of us to grow up with his natural parents, but sometimes I think that might not have been a good thing. They were really, really strict with him and they made damned sure to reinforce the idea that as a seraph, he's above humanity. 'A god amongst insects', I heard his father say, once. That was the year before they died."

Angeal nodded. "They were poisoned, according to what I heard."

"Yeah. It didn't really help improve Gen's opinion about humans, when a couple of his parents' own advisors betrayed them, like that."

"But he seems to trust his own advisors, well enough," observed Angeal. "Unless I'm mistaken, they're human."

"Genesis has a pretty extensive screening process," explained Zack, "and it involves magic. His parents weren't as thorough with it."

Remembering how Genesis seemed to be able to read his heart through his eyes, Angeal nodded. He looked at Zack hesitantly, plagued with uncertainty. He hated this ache in his heart, this feeling of desolation. He was free. He should be happy. Instead, he was miserable. Bowing his head, he gathered his thoughts to try and say what was on his mind.

"Do you really think this is because he's afraid?"

"Hell yes." Zack nodded empathetically. "Like I said; he was raised under the whole: 'never fall for a human' rule, and now that he knows you're a seraph, suddenly love isn't off-limits, anymore. _I_ think you're his split-apart, personally."

"His what?"

"Split-apart," answered Zack. "It's a Seraphim thing. A really long time ago, the mother of the Seraphim pissed off the guardian goddess of this world, and as punishment, she cursed all of Jenova's children. Genesis or Sephiroth could give you better details, but the gist of it is our spirits split in half when we're born, and the piece we're missing ends up in another body. As a result, we're always restless…always looking for our other half. That's what the legend says, anyhow."

Angeal was a little surprised. "You believe this?"

"Well, I don't know if I believe our souls are literally _split in two_ when we're born," answered Zack, "but I _do_ believe in split-aparts, all the same. The humans call them 'soul mates'. When I saw your wing and watched Genesis with you, it just hit me that you've got to be his. Your wing is even on the other side of your body, and it's white."

The big man shook his head in confusion, and he absently picked up the Buster Sword brought to him by Zack and laid it over his thighs to check the blade for imperfections. "What does my wing position and color have to do with anything?"

"It's a reflection," insisted Zack. "He's hot-headed, you're as cool as a cucumber. He's black, you're white. You compliment each other, man. It's meant to be."

"He doesn't seem to share your observation," muttered Angeal. He couldn't help but think of the way Genesis' wing had caressed his, while they were having sex. He shut his eyes, remembering the taste, feel and scent of him. The thought of never experiencing that again put him in a state of quiet desperation, and if he were a less dignified man, he might have begged Zack to talk Genesis out of sending him away.

"Like I said, he's scared." Zack got up and he approached, patting Angeal's bare, strong shoulder comfortingly. "I think he's doing this as much for him as for you, Angeal. He needs some time, so give it to him. When the panic fades, he'll start to realize how much he wants you back at his side, and he'll send for you."

"And if he doesn't?" Angeal didn't look up from the pebble he was absently pushing around on the floor with his sandal.

"Hmm, good point."

Angeal looked up with a frown, disconcerted to hear Zack concede so readily. The other seraph wasn't finished, though. Zack scratched his chin in thought, his straight, dark brows lowering pensively.

"Genesis is pretty stubborn," mused Zack. "He might put off sending for you just to save that stupid pride of his. If that's the case, then maybe _you_ come back on your own. There's no way he'll be able to turn you away, once he's had the space and time he needs to appreciate what he's missing. In the meantime, you should take me up on my offer and come stay in Gongaga for a while, before you head home. It'll give you the chance to figure out what you want to do when you get there."

"I'm not sure I want them to know what I am," sighed Angeal. He ran his fingers through his hair and he looked up at the man standing over him. "They're simple people, Zackary. The whole community knows each other. If they find out what I am, I don't know how they'll react."

"You said it's a close-knit community," Zack pointed out encouragingly, "so I'm betting they'll cope, and even if they freak out a little at first, they'll probably come around."

"Maybe." Angeal sighed again. "I always knew I was…different. I've always been stronger than other men, and I knew I was adopted. I never expected this, though." His wing came out as he spoke, and he was helpless to stop it. He grimaced in discomfort at first, but once it was out, he felt some relief.

Zack regarded the wing and its smaller counterpart with some interest. "How about other things? Have you had any other…er…side effects?"

"Like what?"

"Well, like a crazy affinity for any certain kind of animal, for example. Genesis is the Phoenix of the desert, I'm the Wolf of Gongaga and Sephiroth is the Serpent of the Temple."

Angeal frowned, though he could see Genesis being associated with the mythical bird of fire. The elaborate throne he sat upon at court had the likeliness of a phoenix crowning the high back of it. He shook his head slowly, wondering where this was going. "No. Am I supposed to?"

Zack compressed his lips and frowned. "Okay, so Genesis didn't explain that to you. I don't want you to get worried, but there's a chance you could start going through some other changes. The wings aren't the only inhuman manifestations."

"Just what kind of manifestations should I be expecting, Zack?" Angeal clamped down hard on the panic that tried to rise again. He couldn't afford to lose his composure, after holding onto it through everything else.

Zack sighed. "I never told you about this part of my nature, when I was hanging out in Banora. I didn't want to freak you out, once we started becoming friends. The truth is, every seraph is different and I don't know if your situation is going to be like ours or not, since you're coming into this so late in life."

"Just tell me what you're trying to say, Zack," demanded Angeal, getting up from his seat on the crate. "What should I be expecting that has to do with animals?"

"Some of us can change forms," obliged the smaller man. "Into animals, in fact. There's a reason I'm called the Wolf Lord, and it's not because people think I act like a puppy sometimes."

He stepped back and gazed at Angeal with earnest, blue-violet eyes. "Do me a favor and slide that big-ass sword over to the other side of the room, before I do this."

Angeal looked down at his custom-made weapon. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you hacking at me with it, when I do this." Zack smirked at him. "I know you're usually the last guy on Gaia to panic, but you've been through a hell of a lot in just a short time. Humor me, big guy."

Angeal stood up and he did as he asked, only because he'd come to know Zack well enough during his stay in Banora to trust him not to do anything threatening. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited expectantly. "This should be interesting."

"Oh, it will be."

With that said, Zack changed forms before Angeal's startled eyes. The powerful Banoran stared down at the lupine gaze watching him, and the sheer size of the ebon-coated beast was enough to give it away as a supernatural wolf. The intelligence in those eyes—which matched Zackary's—was another dead giveaway.

"I...think I should sit," decided Angeal aloud.

The creature watched him as he sank back down onto the crate, and its bushy tail brushed the earthen floor as it wagged in a friendly manner. Angeal stared wordlessly at it, taking his time to absorb it. He could _sense_ his friend in there, and he slowly reached out with furrowed brows, half expecting the friendly demeanor to change in a split second. The gray-tipped muzzle nudged his hand encouragingly and the ears lowered in a demure manner, as if he was asking for a pat. Angeal happened to like dogs, and he began to smile hesitantly as he petted Zack's head and then scratched him behind the ear. The tail began to wag again and the tongue lolled out as the animal grinned.

"Can you understand me, in this form?" Angeal questioned.

The wolf made a sound that was something between a growl and a "ruff". Angeal supposed such animals weren't capable of actually barking like their domestic cousins. The tail wagged faster. Angeal began to understand the implications of what this could mean to him personally, and the fear returned.

"Do you think I could...change...like this?"

The wolf whined and licked his hand. It stepped back and it changed back into Zackary. The younger man's eyes were unusually solemn as they gazed down at Angeal. "I don't know, man. I kind of hope not, because I think you've been through enough."

Angeal nodded and sighed. "Well, this is...I don't know what to make of it."

Zack took his seat again and he blew a sigh, too. "Yeah. Imagine how I felt when puberty hit. My folks were chasing me all over the place, scared out of their wits that one of the village hunters would shoot me down before they could explain."

Angeal looked at him with a quiet smile. "It sounds like your foster parents loved you very much."

Zack nodded. "Yeah. They were good people."

"Were?"

"Well, they were already kind of old when they took me in," explained Zack. "They passed away within a year of each other. Dad had a stroke and Mom went in her sleep, about two years before I came to Banora and met you."

"You must have been pretty young," reasoned Angeal, mentally counting in his head. "You were only twenty-two when I met you.

Zack nodded. "Yeah. I was still learning the ropes. Like I said, my brothers suggested I get out and see the world outside the forest, so I could gain some perspective. I'm really glad I chose to check out Banora. You helped me cool some of my impulsive habits, Angeal."

"Not many," guessed the big man with a smirk. "But I'm glad you came, too. It's been nice to catch up with you. Tell me, what kind of animal does Genesis turn into? He's never shown me. I assume it's some form of bird...or feline."

"He doesn't shift," answered Zack with a shrug. "Just me and Sephiroth, so far."

"I see." Angeal looked down at his muscular body pensively. "And what kind of animal form do you think I'll adopt, if I turn out to be a shapeshifter like you?"

Zack thought about it only for a moment, his gaze sliding over Angeal briefly. "A bear. Definitely a big-ass bear."

That made Angeal chuckle under his breath. It was easy to lapse back into old speech patterns, around this casual, easy-going seraph. "A bear, eh? You sound pretty sure about that."

Zack nodded empathetically. "It totally suits you. I can see it in your eyes, and your stance. The only other animal I can think of that might fit would be a stag. You've got a kind of nobility of spirit that I don't see in many people, and that's got nothing to do with riches."

"Hmm. If you say so."

"I _do_ say so," Zack said. "And I should know. Genesis and Sephiroth can read the Lifestream, but I can read people. If you shift, it's going to be a bear or a stag. Trust me."

"Well, at least I'll know what to expect," Angeal sighed, trying to keep his tone light.

"That's the spirit," encouraged Zack. He got up and he walked over to him to pat him on the shoulder. "Seems like the storm's calming down again. We ought to head back to the palace while we can, before it picks up again."

He picked up his mask and frowned at it in distaste. "I'd better put this on before we go out again. If they find out I've been showing my face around town, they'll both flip."

* * *

Genesis was suffering nausea, by the time they returned to the palace. He was just speaking with the head of his royal guard about sending someone out to search the city for them, when Angeal and Zack came in through the open entry doors, dripping with rainwater. The boom of thunder outside warned that another downpour would soon be on its way. Zack shook his hair out like a dog, and Angeal stood quietly next to him with his Buster Sword in hand. His subtly glowing blue gaze met Genesis' across the distance of the great hall.

"Where have you been?" snapped the Pharaoh, forgetting about his guard. He strode over to the two of them, helpless to stop his gaze from looking Angeal up and down. Seeing no sign of injury, he relaxed a bit and he turned to Zack. "Well? Speak!"

"Woof."

Genesis clenched his jaw.

Zack shrugged. "Hey, treat me like a dog, and you'll get an appropriate answer."

The redhead sighed and inwardly begged Minerva for patience. His gaze softened as it met Angeal's. "You were both gone for some time," he excused. "It's past lunch hour, and I was nearly ready to call for a search."

"I apologize," Angeal said smoothly, kneeling before him out of habit. "We were caught in the weather, Pharaoh."

Genesis fought the ache in his heart at the sight of Angeal subjugating himself to him. "Rise," he urged softly. "Remember, you are no longer my slave, but one of us. This isn't appropriate."

Angeal got back to his feet, and the intensity in his eyes as he looked at him stirred Genesis' blood. "I wouldn't want to do anything inappropriate, in front of your vassals."

Unable to tell if he wanted to hurt him or fuck him senseless, Genesis maintained his cool. "This weather makes takeoff unsafe, at best. I think the skies should be calm enough tomorrow for your journey home."

"You _'think'_?" Zack pressed, frowning. "You usually just _know_. Something breaking your concentration, Pharaoh?" He glanced pointedly at Angeal and he smirked.

Genesis wanted to pop him on the nose like a belligerent hound trying to sneak a bite from the table. He settled for a warning glare, instead. "Not even _I_ can be absolutely certain of what the weather will do, a full day in advance."

Zack shrugged. "Aerith can."

"Then perhaps you should ask _her_," suggested Genesis, at the end of his patience. He returned his attention to Angeal—who was still watching him with that devouring gaze. Ordinarily, he would never attempt to dissipate a natural rain storm, as the region needed every drop that the brief, volatile rainy season provided. He was getting desperate to send Angeal away, however, before he wavered and refused to let him go.

"If the skies aren't clear enough tomorrow, I'll make them so. I'm sure you're eager to return to your home and begin your reign, Angeal."

"Actually, he's going to head to Banora with us, first," Zack said before Angeal could open his mouth.

"By 'us', I presume you're including the Serpent King's water maiden," guessed Genesis. Unable to resist rubbing a bit of salt in the wound, since Zack was so determined to tease him, he added; "a pity her master isn't likely to agree to let her go with you."

Zack's cheerful expression dropped. "We'll see."

Angeal chose the moment to change the subject, before it could escalate into an argument. "Zack, I'm going to have to take you up on your offer another time. I want to go to Banora first."

Zack broke Genesis' gaze and blinked at the big seraph. "You do?"

Angeal nodded, his expression stoic and determined—which incidentally made him even more irresistible, to Genesis. "I need to settle things there, first."

Zack grimaced and he scratched his head uncomfortably. "Okay man...if you feel like that's what you've got to do, then I won't try and talk you out of it. If you need _anything_ though, you contact me."

Angeal finally looked away from Genesis and he offered Zack a reserved smile. "Thank you. I don't suppose you have a number I can call?"

"You'll be given a communication sphere," Genesis said. "It will allow you to reach any of us quickly, over any distance. Well, _some_ of us." He gave Zack a long-suffering look. "Zackary has a habit of ignoring incoming signals."

"That's because I'm trying to get you and Sephiroth to catch up with the times and use a _phone_," excused Zack. He grinned at Angeal. "We'll exchange contact numbers, before you go. You've got to promise to come to Gongaga once you've finished business at home, though."

Angeal nodded solemnly. "It's a promise." His gaze strayed back to Genesis, and the two of them stared at one another.

"Uh...I guess I'll go back to my chambers and have some lunch with my...er...my..."

"Your harem?" finished Genesis for him, smirking with amusement despite the feelings churning within him, provoked by Angeal's gaze. "Yes, go and dive into your collection of lovers, Zackary."

"Hey, the only ones that are my lovers are Aerith and Cloud," objected Zack. "Tifa is just a friend."

"And how long will _that_ last, I wonder? Your blond pet seems quite fond of that buxom little brunette. I think your greed will get the better of you."

Zack sighed and he looked up at Angeal. "You see what I've got to put up with?"

The comment distracted Angeal enough to make him lower his gaze and smile softly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Zack."

"Yeah." Zack's gaze flitted between the two of them knowingly. "Don't break anything."

* * *

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, once they were relatively alone together in the hall. Genesis wasn't concerned with the guards, as they had already been informed of the truth of Angeal's nature and none of them dared question it. He could sense Angeal's anger, disappointment and even the fear he tried so hard to mask, but he could do nothing to salve it. He found himself at a loss for something to say, however. He could sense Angeal's anger, disappointment and even the fear he tried so hard to mask, but he could do nothing to salve it. He knew he should be trying to teach him, to guide him into this rather than send him off on his own with little more than a brief explanation and his best wishes.

The problem was, he knew he wouldn't be able to let him go if he kept him around...not now. It was different, when he was a "mere human". As his master, Genesis could have sold him off to someone if the danger of loving him became too great. Not so, now. He couldn't keep him as his slave, and he had no legitimate reason not to love him any more. It was too much for him. He'd grown up convinced that he, Sephiroth and Zack were the very last of their kind, and that meant he could never love, this way. Now all he thought he knew was turned upside down, and he needed to regain control of his feelings before they enslaved him completely.

"You're very quiet," observed Angeal. "Having second thoughts?"

Aware of their audience, even if it was composed of his guards and servants, Genesis schooled his features into a cool expression. "Of course not. I've made the best decision for your situation. Come, have some lunch with me and we'll talk."

"I thought I wasn't your slave, anymore."

Genesis paused in mid-stride and turned to look at the bigger man, who hadn't moved to join him. He tempered his annoyance and he made a grand gesture in the general direction of the hall leading to his private chambers.

"My mistake, oh grand colossus. Please honor me with your magnificent presence for lunch."

Angeal's lips twitched briefly. "I would have settled for a simple 'please'."

The bitter sting of sarcasm faded, and Genesis smiled subtly as well. "You should know by now that simplicity isn't part of my nature."

"In that case, I'll honor you with my presence."

* * *

The food had no taste. He had no interest in anything right now, except for the gorgeous, tawny creature sitting across the table from him. Angeal tried not to stare at him, knowing he was giving away too much of his feelings with his gaze, but he couldn't help it. Genesis had made it clear that tomorrow, he would be leaving. He would make sure of that. All Angeal could think of was how hard it was going to be to leave this place, after adapting to and accepting his life here. He'd been quietly suffering over the thought of being replaced as Genesis' lover by a younger man, eventually. Now he suffered the same jealous thoughts for another reason.

Once he was gone, would Genesis sleep alone, or would he choose some other man to share his bed? The thought of anyone else touching that smooth, toned body ate at him like a devouring plague.

"You've barely touched your meal," observed Genesis softly. "But I suppose you have a lot on your mind."

Angeal looked up from the plate he was absently staring at, and he noticed Genesis had hadn't eaten much, either. "Your appetite isn't much better."

The Pharaoh looked down at his plate with a sigh, and he took a sip of water from his cup. "I have a lot on my mind, too." His aqua gaze held Angeal's over the rim of his drink.

Angeal couldn't stand it. This would be their last day together, and he didn't know when or if he'd ever see him again, once he boarded that airship. Forgetting all about the food, Angeal pushed his chair back and got up. He could see by the brief flash of uncertainty on the sculpted face that his actions were taking Genesis by surprise, and he took advantage of that. He circled around and he bent over to cup the back of the Pharaoh's auburn head, lowering his mouth to his.

Genesis blindly tried to set his cup back on the table, but he was rendered clumsy by the kiss and he knocked it over, instead. The precious liquid spilled over the table to trickle onto the stone floor, but neither of them paid any heed. Genesis got out of his chair and reciprocated the motions of Angeal's mouth with equal desperation, and the bigger man found some comfort in that. It was easier to believe that Genesis wasn't doing this because he really wanted to be rid of him, when he kissed him that way. Angeal ran his hands over the tanned expanse of Genesis' naked shoulders, then down his arms. He felt the cool metal of the platinum armbands he wore around his biceps, and he fount it unreasonably sexy.

Unable to think of anything he wanted more than to lavish attention on this body once more, Angeal began to subtly guide his former master to the bed. He wasn't a vain man by any means, but when he slipped a hand beneath the front flap of Genesis' loincloth to cup the bulge protected by the material, the resulting whimper of desire gave him immense satisfaction.

"Let me take care of this," he urged huskily, and he began to remove the garment.

"I should send you to a guest chamber for the night," breathed Genesis in weak protest. The loincloth fluttered to the floor, leaving him exposed and naked, save for his jewelry.

"I wouldn't go," ensured Angeal. He cupped Genesis' chin to urge his head back and he began to kiss his throat, tracing the curve over his larynx with his tongue before caressing the column with his lips. He put an arm around him and pulled him close, before the redhead could even think of pulling away.

"I could make you," promised Genesis, his voice fairly purring in that unique way of his.

"I don't think you'd want to," Angeal remarked with certainty.

He kissed his way back up to his jaw and covered his mouth again, stifling further arguments. The way Genesis pressed against him and practically tore off his meager garment was all the proof he needed that he was right about that. Determined to have his way this time, Angeal stopped his companion from reaching down to fondle him. He growled softly in his throat—a gentle warning—when Genesis fought his hold on his wrist. The redhead backed off and Angeal felt his lips smirking against his.

It was so typical of him that Angeal would have started to smile too, if his heart weren't heavy with the knowledge that this could be their last time together. Determined to make the most of it, he guided Genesis on to the bed and onto his back, covering his sleek body with his own. He hardly noticed it when his wing came out, but for the erotic little tingle down his spine as it emerged. As if in answer to its appearance, Genesis lifted his shoulders off the mattress to allow his wing to come out as well, and the two feathery appendages caressed as their owners kissed, stroked and fondled one another.

* * *

The next morning, Genesis saw Angeal off at the airship. Zack and Sephiroth stood with him, and the former shook his head and sighed in disappointment as he watched Angeal Hewley approach the waiting aircraft.

"Can I just say something?"

"No," answered both Genesis and Sephiroth at the same time.

"Well too bad; I'm saying it anyhow." Zack looked at Genesis, his gaze solemn behind his wolf mask. "You're an idiot."

"Words are free, Zackary." Genesis stared at his retreating lover—who was dressed in a fashion more befitting the lands he was about to return to. He looked good in the dark crew shirt and loose pants, he had to admit. They were the only clothing articles they could find of that nature that fit him, but he imagined Angeal had his own wardrobe waiting for him at home.

"You've found your split-apart, and you're just letting him walk away, out of your life!" Zack gestured at Angeal, who had paused to speak with the pilot. The big man turned and met Genesis' eyes across the distance, his blue gaze melancholy and troubled.

Genesis stared back, his feet glued to the spot.

"Seph, you agree with me, don't you?" Zack looked to their companion demandingly.

"Don't call me that in mixed company," reminded the Serpent King coolly, casting a look around at the people in the area. His voice lacked bite, however, and his emerald gaze studied Genesis from the shadows of his mask. "But yes, I happen to agree. It's obvious that your heart isn't in this decision, Pharaoh."

"Where my heart is at has no bearing on what must be done," insisted Genesis. "So the two of you can kindly stop meddling."

"I was making an observation," Sephiroth corrected with an annoyed frown. "Not meddling. I have no fucks to give about where you send your Banoran."

"All right, cool it," Zack said before Genesis could retaliate to the barb. "He's not going to listen to us, so just let him make his own mistake. Gaia knows, you two have let me do that plenty of times before."

Sephiroth smirked at the brunet, and Genesis managed to do the same. The Pharaoh's gaze went to Angeal again and his heart seemed to clench. He reacted out of passion—a thing which his father would have thoroughly disapproved of.

"Angeal, wait," he called as the dark-haired Banoran turned to board the airship.

Angeal stopped immediately, his weapon flashing in the sunlight as Genesis approached him. There was wary hope on his handsome face as Genesis stopped before him, and the Pharaoh wrestled with himself inwardly, before acting on his emotions. He put his arms around Angeal's neck and he drew his head down for a kiss, beyond caring what people thought of the public display.

"Take a year," Genesis said against the taller man's mouth, when he broke the kiss. "Discover who you are as a seraph, and if you still feel the same after that, come back to me." He gazed into those deep, glowing blue eyes and he willed him to understand.

Angeal's expression relaxed, and he sighed. He combed his fingers through Genesis' sunset-colored, windblown locks and he nodded. "I think I understand. You need to understand something too, though."

Angeal nuzzled Genesis' jaw with his lips and he stopped at his ear, whispering into it. "I'll never be free of you. I'll never _want_ to be."

He released him then, holding his gaze for a moment longer before turning away and boarding the ship. Genesis shut his eyes and suppressed his emotions, praying for his goddess to numb him, all the while.

* * *

-To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 11

* * *

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

The next evening after Angeal's departure from Menephera, Zack had a discussion with Sephiroth about the possibility of Aerith returning home to Gongaga with him. Now that the immediate threat was over and a course of action was set and agreed upon, the Serpent King would be returning to his own lands soon, to begin his campaign against ShinRa. Unfortunately, Zack wasn't having any luck convincing him to leave Aerith with him.

"I won't debate this further with you, Zackary. My answer is still 'no'."

Zack scowled at the silver-haired seraph, lounging calmly on the elaborate couch in his guest suite, reading a book. On the other side of the room, Lazard was pouring wine into wooden goblets for their evening meal. "I'm going to need more than that, Seph. You know how I feel about her, and she feels the same for me. If you care about either of us at all, you'll let me have her."

Sephiroth glanced up from his book, and his serpentine eyes flashed with annoyance. "Emotional blackmail doesn't become you. I've already explained my reasons to you."

"What, because she can make plants grow and predict the weather? _That's_ your big reason for keeping her from me?"

"Because I believe she's Cetra," snapped Sephiroth at last, putting the book down and sitting up. Lazard paused and looked up from his task. He set the wine pitcher down and crossed the room to join his king, sitting down beside him, carrying the drinks in his hand. He offered one to Sephiroth and kept the other for himself.

"Sephiroth has long suspected that Aerith carries the blood of the Ancients in her veins," reminded the handsome, elegant blond man.

Sephiroth nodded. "Do you see, Zackary? If Aerith is Cetra as I suspect, she could very well be the last of her kind. She's too valuable to risk. I know you _think_ you can protect her, but ShinRa has already proven they have advanced weaponry at their disposal. If they make use of that to try and take our lands, you can bet they'll come after Gongaga, first."

Zack shut his eyes, unable to deny the logic. He didn't want to put Aerith in any un-necessary danger, no matter _how_ much he wished she could share his bedding with him and Cloud each night. "You _really_ think she's and Ancient?"

"I think there's a greater than average possibility," answered Sephiroth.

"Why not just _ask_ her?"

"I've asked her about the details of her origins. If she's Cetra as I suspect, she isn't aware of it. Aerith described her parents as ordinary people, who went missing some time ago, when she was just into her teens."

"Yeah, I know about all that," sighed Zack. "She's told me, before."

"Did she also tell you that she can hear the voices of the Lifestream?" Lazard queried, swirling the red liquid around in his goblet.

Zack frowned. "She mentioned something about sensing spirits, once. You know, some humans can do that, too. We've got this shaman in our village—"

"Who's probably high on greens most of the time, and imagining things," finished Sephiroth for him. His slit-pupiled gaze held Zack's. "You may visit Aerith whenever you wish, but I won't send her to Gongaga to live with you. Not until I can be certain. I'm sure even you can understand how important it is to keep this girl safe, if there's even a chance that she could be Cetra."

"The last known ancient was found some twenty years ago, right?" Zack asked.

"The key word is 'known'," reminded Lazard after sipping his drink. "The Ancients could and did blend in with humans, throughout history. They began to do this after the Jenova events that nearly destroyed their race. It stands to reason that they aren't extinct after all, and Aerith demonstrates many abilities that are extremely rare in humans."

Sephiroth nodded. "There is more to the girl's abilities than a green thumb and some psychic gifts, Zackary. No human has ever been known to bear all the spiritual gifts of the Cetra…unless that human happens to be a descendant."

Zack shrugged. "Well there you go…she could just be a descendant."

Lazard shook his head. "I believe if that were the case, her abilities would be more diluted."

Zack sighed again, his gaze sliding to Sephiroth. "Okay then, how about you tell me what you plan to _do_ with her, if you're right about this? If you believe in the legends and Aerith really _is_ the last Ancient, then it would be pretty stupid to try and use her. That's supposedly what happened with Jenova and why we Seraphim are so scarce, now."

"I agree." Sephiroth nodded calmly and he sipped his drink. He reached out and leisurely combed his fingers through Lazard's pale hair. "Which is why I intend to protect her. Make no mistake, Zackary, ShinRa would like to get their hands on someone with the powers of the Cetra—just as they would like to cage and experiment on _us_. I had the misfortune of meeting some of their scientists while I was their 'guest'. Any supernatural creatures on this world would do well to avoid falling under their control."

"Just consider Aerith's safety, Zack," urged Lazard. "Sephiroth isn't doing this to be cruel. He's doing it to protect her. He isn't forbidding you from seeing her, just from taking her with you to live in Gongaga."

Zack lowered his gaze, frowning unhappily. He loved her _so_ much, but they were right. It would be selfish of him to take her to Gongaga, while tensions were so high between the reigning kingdoms and war could begin at any time. There really was no safer place on Gaia for her right now, than the Temple of Ancients.

"Be content with what you have," advised Sephiroth. "You have your blue-eyed blond to take care of your needs when you're apart from Aerith. You have a territory to protect, and you need to put aside this lovesick foolishness and think about the safety of your people and the defense of your borders. Perhaps with enough effort, you can fortify your kingdom enough for me to consider it adequately protected for her to live with you. Until then, Aerith will live safely with me."

It killed him to do it, but Zack reluctantly acquiesced.

* * *

The time inevitably came for Sephiroth and his followers to leave—along with Aerith. Zack stood on the airfield with Aerith, embracing her tightly as Sephiroth's other subjects boarded his airship—along with a few of Genesis' specialists. Sephiroth planned to launch his campaign against ShinRa and begin taking land, once he returned home. In support of this, Genesis was lending him some of his assassins; who were well learned on other cultures and adept at blending in. Cloud stood silently, his blue eyes grave with sympathy for the couple as they said their goodbyes. A few feet away, Genesis stood talking softly with Sephiroth and Lazard.

"Some day," promised Zack in a whisper. He inhaled Aerith's scent slowly, savoring her unique, flowery fragrance. "I'll build a home for you. Now I've got even _more_ reason to clean up my act."

"Just be careful," she pleaded, kissing his jaw and cheeks. "I don't know what I'd do, if anything happened to you."

He squeezed her gently. "I'm not going to do anything reckless. What I'm going to concentrate on right now is securing my territory…and not just because Seph insists on it. I've been too lax, and I don't want people to get hurt because of that. I'll come visit you whenever I can."

"And you'll bring Cloud?" She insisted. She'd grown quite fond of the quiet blond from Nibelheim.

Zack chuckled and nodded. "And I'll bring Cloud. That's a promise." He kissed her deeply then, and it was a kiss full of promise, love and passion. He released her slowly with a sigh, several heartbeats later. He gave a nod in Cloud's direction. "Go and say goodbye to the chocobo."

Aerith forced as smile at him and she approached Cloud, holding her arms out for a hug. He shyly returned her embrace, and she stroked the soft spikes of his golden hair. She wondered how he and Zack managed to get their hair to stay in that style without stiffening it with various gels or egg whites, but it wasn't really important.

"Promise me you'll watch over him," she whispered to him, pulling away a bit to look into those amazing, gem-bright eyes of his.

Cloud nodded. "I promise…as much as I'm able to, anyhow."

Aerith smiled, satisfied with the answer. Not that Zack needed a bodyguard, with his sword skills and seraph biology, but it made her feel better to know Cloud would be at his side. According to Zack, he was very good with a sword and they _both_ knew he was more level-headed than him. Knowing that he and Zack hadn't fully consummated their relationship yet, she thought it prudent to give him a parting warning.

"He's going to drive you mad, if you let him."

Cloud responded with a frown of confusion and a glance at Zack.

"I mean with lovemaking," she elaborated. "Zack is a big flirt, but he's also a romantic. Don't be afraid to give him a push, okay? Even though his intimate needs are stronger than a human man's, he won't consummate until he's sure you're ready for it. He's always afraid of pushing too hard or moving too fast, so you might have to get aggressive. I did."

Cloud's mouth twitched before he could control it. "I have a hard time picturing it." His gaze roved over her briefly. "You're so gentle."

Aerith smirked. "But I have _my_ needs, too. As flirtatious and charming as he is, Zack can really be a tease. Don't let him do that to you, Cloud."

He nodded, flushing a little. "I'll…keep that in mind."

Finding him rather adorable, Aerith kissed him on the cheek and gave him one last, tight squeeze. "And don't let him talk you into doing anything stupid."

That made the blond chuckle a little. "Too late."

Aerith giggled. "Well, don't let him talk you into doing _more_ stupid things."

"I'll try," he vowed. "But he's got a way with that kind of thing."

She sighed and cast a fond look at the seraph. "Yes, he does."

Sephiroth approached with Lazard, and his sensitive, emerald eyes were narrowed against the light of the sun. "Aerith, it's time to go."

The water maiden released Cloud and gave her king a respectful little bow. "Of course, Majesty. Cloud, remember what I said, okay?"

"I will," he promised.

Aerith spared a moment to give Zack one last hug and heartfelt kiss, before she joined Sephiroth and Lazard to board the aircraft.

Cloud stepped up next to Zack, and he quietly took the Wolf Lord's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as the airship's boarding steps were retracted and the engines started up. Zack looked down at their clasped hands, then at Cloud. He grinned at him and he squeezed back in silent thanks.

* * *

Angeal didn't head straight into Banora when he arrived on the islands. He needed time to pull his thoughts together before he returned home, so he used some of the gil that Genesis gave him as a parting gift to get a room in Mideel. When he thought he had his head together enough to face his parents, he departed for Banora. It was evening by the time he arrived home, and he purposely kept away from the main roads as he made his way to the house he grew up in. Fortunately, most people were indoors by now, preparing for bed or closing up shops for the night. He made it to his house without running into anyone and suffering questions he didn't want to answer, and he took a deep breath as he approached the front door.

At first, he wondered if his parents were in bed, because there wasn't an immediate answer when he knocked on the door. He had no key anymore, of course, so he couldn't just let himself in. A light came on in the den and he stepped back as the door opened to reveal his mother. For a moment, she stared up at him with a stunned look on her face.

"Angeal!" Mrs. Hewley got over her initial shock quickly, and she hugged him tightly. "Oh, we were so _worried_! We thought you might be dead! You're so _tan_! Where have you been for all this time?"

He returned her embrace stiffly, wanting to take comfort in her affection, but wary. "Mother...is father home?"

"Yes, he's in his workshop," she answered. "He's been up late every night since you vanished, doing everything possible to try and find you! Come in and shut the door, honey. Tell me where you've been. Why haven't you contacted us?"

"It's a long story," he said. He closed the door behind him, keeping his gaze lowered. "Will you bring Dad out? I'll explain everything."

"Of course, son," she agreed, looking up at him with worry. "Why don't you put your bag away while I go and get your father?"

He nodded silently, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Angeal, are you okay?"

"Not exactly," he answered. "Please, just get Father in here."

She looked at him with anxious suspicion, but she went to comply. Angeal made sure that all the curtains were closed, before the tugged his shirt up and off. He sighed as he placed it on the back of the rocking chair by the foyer entrance, and he waited for his parents. They emerged from the back hallway a moment later, and his foster father's hazel eyes lit up from behind the square reading glasses.

"It's really you," he said, approaching Angeal to put his hands on his arms and look up at him. "You're alive! We've been searching for you, son. What happened?"

"I was captured," answered the young man, "while defending the orchards."

"Well, we _knew_ all that," said Mr. Hewley impatiently. "What we didn't know was what those scum did to you, or where they took you! Here, sit down so we can talk."

"I need to remain standing." Angeal avoided their eyes, conscious of the glow behind his irises. He didn't want to frighten them...but they _had_ to know he wasn't a normal person. The thought that they'd kept his true origins from him for all this time made him bitter.

Mr. Hewley paused, his gaze flicking between his shirtless, adopted son and the garment strewn over the back of the rocker. "Well, okay then." He went to the couch and sat down next to his wife. "Your hair's awfully long, son."

Angeal smirked without humor. "It's barely past my shoulders. If you want to see long hair, I could introduce you to one of the Seraphim I met while I was away."

The look his parents shot at each other wasn't lost on him. "S-Seraphim?" his mother stammered. "Um, I think I'll go and make some tea. I have the feeling this is going to be quite a tale."

"I'll come with you," his father offered, getting out of his seat.

Her discomfort wasn't lost on Angeal. He watched them go with what he _hoped_ was a neutral expression on his face. When they disappeared through the arch leading into the kitchen area, he shut his eyes and concentrated. He allowed his wings to come out slowly, careful not to let them "spring" and knock anything over. He could hear them speaking in the kitchen, and while it went against his nature to eavesdrop, he found himself listening with narrowed eyes. His sense of hearing seemed to be much sharper now, than what it once was.

"Don't panic," his father was whispering to his mother, "we don't know what's really happened to him and—"

"But he said he met one of the _Seraphim_," she interrupted. "What if he...he..."

"Don't jump to conclusions. Just finish making the tea and stay calm. All that matters is that he's home now, and he's safe."

Angeal practically snorted. Safe. He didn't think that was a word he could ever apply to how he felt, again. He waited until he saw his father emerge from the shadows of the archway, and he slowly spread his primary wing, deliberately stretching it out to display the ivory, feathery expanse. Mr. Hewley stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Angeal with wide eyes. His wife came up behind him, and when she saw their son she put a hand to her mouth and gasped.

"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Angeal softly of both of them.

* * *

It took a while for both of his parents to calm themselves and gather their wits enough to offer some kind of explanation to him. His mother was the first to speak as she sank slowly down on the couch beside his father.

"We didn't know, Angeal...not for certain."

Mr. Hewley took her hand and held it, looking up at Angeal with a bit of awe in his expression. "You were brought here to Banora by a woman named Gillian. She looked perfectly normal to us, except...well..."

"Her eyes glowed." Angeal's foster mother peered up at him with furrowed brows. "Like yours. Angeal, please look at us."

He shut his eyes briefly and sighed, before opening them again and gazing at them full-on. They didn't seem particularly surprised. He'd argued with himself over his choice to reveal his nature so abruptly to them, but he needed to know the truth. He was lucky neither of them suffered a heart attack over it.

"She said that your father was mortal," Mr. Hewley said, "Like us. She couldn't keep you, and we...well, we couldn't have kids of our own."

"We never looked back," insisted Mrs. Hewley, "and no matter what, you are still _our_ son. We'd hoped that perhaps you'd grow up to be normal...I mean...human...because you never grew a wing when you matured."

"Then I'm not a full-blooded seraph?" Angeal frowned at them both. Maybe that would explain the smaller wing growing beneath his primary one.

"We only have what your mother told us, to go by," answered his father.

Angeal retracted the wings slowly and he bowed his head, reaching absently for his shirt. "What happened to her? Who was my father?"

"We don't know," answered his mother gently. "Angeal, if we could tell you, we would. We love you, son. I don't care what you are or where you came from. You're my son."

Angeal held still as she got out of her seat and approached him to cup his face. His hard expression softened. These people had raised him from childhood, after all. One couldn't just _forget_ a thing like that, no matter the circumstance.

"I just...you should have told me," he said helplessly. He bowed his head, his emotions threatening to rise to the surface and crack the surface of his stoic mask. He drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Everything I knew...it's all changed. I can't go back, I can't be what I was...who _am_ I?"

"You're Angeal Hewley," answered his father firmly, getting out of his seat to join his wife at the towering young man's side. He put a hand on Angeal's shoulder and he looked up at him with sincere, determined eyes. "You're still 'you', no matter what, son. Now tell us where you've been, for all these months. You're home now, and you're safe."

Angeal shut his eyes and took another deep breath, before nodding. Some things, of course, he couldn't tell them. How could he explain that he'd fallen in love with the Pharaoh of the desert, whilst living as his slave? He chose to leave his personal romantic feelings out of it, and after his mother fetched the tea, he sat down to tell them all of the most pertinent parts.

* * *

_Elsewhere in the world:_

"What do you _mean_, "it's a decoy?"

Hollander looked at the artifact in his hand with a sigh, and he set it lightly on the president's desk. "I'm sorry, President, but this item won't be of any help to us. It has as much potency as a paperweight. You can't infiltrate the Serpent King's temple with this 'keystone'. It isn't attuned to anyone."

"How can that be?" Rufus dragged his fingers through his ash-blond hair, and he glared at the professor with annoyance. "We procured that keystone from the Serpent King himself. There must be some mistake."

Scarlet pushed away from the wall she was leaning against, and she approached the scientist with a threatening scowl on her ruby lips. "He's lying to you, President."

"And _why_ would I do that?" demanded Hollander with a frown. He glared back at her, his salt-and-pepper locks feathering over his brow. "I have nothing to gain from it."

He approached the president's desk and he placed the keystone on it. "Get a second opinion, if you must. I'm telling you though, this item won't work. If you send an army in to infiltrate the Serpent King's temple with this, it's going to be a very short endeavor."

Rufus looked down at the item, and his scowl matched Scarlet's. "Thank you, Hollander. You are dismissed."

The professor nodded and he left without a backward glance. Rufus picked the keystone up and he rolled it in his hand as the door to his office shut.

"Are you just going to take his word for it?" demanded Scarlet.

He glared at her. "What do you think?"

She shrugged delicately. "Sometimes, I can't tell. What will you do if he's right?"

Rufus narrowed his eyes at the object. "Use it as a paperweight, I suppose."

* * *

_In Junon:_

Vincent tossed and turned in his bed, his pale chest rapidly rising and falling with his labored breath. His dreams tore him out of reality and forced him down paths he preferred to leave forgotten in his mind. He squirmed beneath the satin sheets, cursing and yelling in his sleep against his will.

"Lu...crecia...don't leave," he gasped. "Why?"

"Vincent?"

The voice was masculine...not the feminine murmur from his memories. The gunman opened his heterochromatic eyes and blinked up at the bearded face hovering over his. "Reeve."

"Yes, that's what I've been calling myself." The engineer traced his face, a frown appearing between his dark brows. "You were having a nightmare. The woman, again?"

Vincent nodded, reaching up impulsively to stroke the disheveled brown hair away from Reeve's dark eyes. "Just whispers of the past."

"More like 'screams from the past', from what I was hearing," murmured Reeve. He lowered his mouth to Vincent's and kissed him softly. The whiskers of his facial hair tickled enticingly against Vincent's skin as their mouths moved against one another, before Reeve pulled back again. "You're sure she's dead?"

"I'm sure. I removed the blade from her heart, myself." Vincent shut his eyes with remembered pain. His wings had come out during his sleepless struggles and they lay unfurled beneath him over the surface of the bed, half-tangled in the sheets. He winced as he tried to withdraw the talon of the right one from the sheet, without poking a hole in it.

"Here, I've got this," offered Reeve. He reached out and gently eased the material over the talon, and then he stroked the minus ridge of the appendage—which would have been the equivalent of a human's forearm. He urged it to fold inward and he lowered his mouth to Vincent's for another soft kiss.

"I can't take it away."

"No," agreed Vincent softly, "you can't. But this is enough." He put his arms around the engineer and drew him closer. Reeve relaxed against him and he laid his head on his chest as Vincent stroked his hair.

"I'm...grateful," murmured Vincent. He shut his eyes again, and he concentrated on the feel of his mortal lover pressed against him. The being that was forever melded with his spirit was restless, lately. It desired a faster resolution to the issue they were facing, but he refused to appease its thirst. Chaos was a creature of pure instinct and rage, designed to do as Gaia bade it. It was part of him, now, and he was more than a weapon.

* * *

While Angeal was learning to cope with the reality of what he was, Genesis was struggling with his decision to send him away. He spent long, sleepless nights in his empty bed, remembering the touch of work-roughened hands on his body, and the husky, masculine sighs of pleasure in his ears. He tossed and turned at night and ultimately, he always ended up lounging on his couch with a book. He'd read until the sun rose and when his eyes were burning with exhaustion, he would climb back into his bed to find what rest he could, before the day's responsibilities began.

At least when Zackary was there, he had some excuse to turn his thoughts away from Angeal and his own personal angst. Now that he was virtually alone again, with only his council and his servants to keep him company, he had time to spend inside his own head...and he didn't much appreciate the thoughts he found dwelling in there.

He concealed all of this, of course. He went about his business as though there had never been a slave named Angeal, who could set his blood afire with a mere glance. It was more difficult in practice than it was in thought. The subject of Banora came up often in court, since it happened to be amongst Menephera's trade routes. It was unavoidable.

"My king, Banora has agreed to increase the produce exchange, provided there is a fair price."

Genesis imagined that Angeal had something to do with that, and he nearly smiled. He controlled the curve of his lips and he nodded. "Very good, Asim. See to it that they're compensated well for this exchange."

The advisor bowed. "Yes, Pharaoh. There is also the matter of the campaign happening to the east. The Serpent King's men are moving in with our people to infiltrate the ShinRa ranks. He's started to expand his territory. This will naturally increase the tension between the kingdoms."

"Then we'll just have to strengthen our borders further," answered Genesis, drumming well-manicured fingers on the arm of his throne. He sighed and narrowed his eyes, his gaze going distant as he contemplated the possibility of war coming to his lands. He was almost thankful for the distraction. It kept the mental imprint of Angeal from haunting him at every step. "I'll begin to inspect the borders daily myself, to ensure our people are taking this threat seriously."

Asim bowed, as did the others. "A wise choice."

"Tell me, my king," asked the head physician, "how fairs your slave?"

Genesis' lips compressed into a hard line. "He's no longer my slave," he reminded in a low, warning tone, "and you'd do well not to question matters that don't concern you."

"Forgive me." The physician bowed, his beard practically sweeping the floor with the depth of his gesture. "I only meant to inquire upon his health. He is...unusual. He isn't like yourself and the other Seraphim, if I may be so bold as to say so."

"I'm _aware_ of that," assured Genesis as the other council members looked at him curiously. "His circumstances are different, but he is a seraph. Regardless of wing color, you will treat him with the same respect you give me. Is that unclear?"

"No, Pharaoh." The physician bowed again, backing up a step. "Of course, your word is law."

Genesis relaxed. "Good. Now, onto matters of the state. I want to pool all additional resources into emergency rations. Ensure that weaponry manufacture resumes at its normal pace, for now. So long as we have a sufficient number in reserve, there is no reason to increase production. I don't want questions raised that could lead to discontent and fear in our city. Leave that for when we have something confirmed to worry about."

The council agreed, and the meeting was adjourned. Genesis waited until they all filed out, before he got up from his throne. He prepared to retire to another restless, miserable night, when his royal advisor stopped him.

"Pharaoh, have you forgotten the fertility banquet?"

Genesis shut his eyes and cursed softly under his breath. "No, of course not. I would just like to freshen up, first. I'll join the festivities when the food is prepared, Asim."

The advisor bowed, his green eyes following Genesis thoughtfully as the redhead stood up and walked out of the court chamber. He sighed softly, shaking his head. He's sent a care package to Banora, and he hoped the contents would mean as much to Angeal as he presumed. There were other ways to bring Genesis around to the truth, though.

* * *

The young man who brought the mead to Genesis at the banquet was certainly a handsome sort. He had dark mocha skin, a strong muscle tone and height that nearly equaled Angeal's. His hair was long and braided, ending in multiple beads at his mid-back. He knelt before Genesis and offered the goblet to him as the seraph reclined on the canopy-covered lounge at his seat of honor.

"I will add more honey to it, if you wish, Pharaoh," offered the servant. His dark eyes gazed into Genesis' boldly for a moment, before lowering.

Genesis stared at him, well-aware of what he was only faintly concealing. He was used to getting this sort of doting worship from his subjects, and he knew he could take any number of them—male or female—to his bed willingly. This one had chiseled features that reminded him vaguely of Angeal's. He glanced sidelong at Asim, who quickly looked away and busied himself with a discussion happening between some of the attending council members. He took the cup from the servant and he brought it to his lips, his eyes roving over the toned, powerful body appraisingly.

"Fetch something for yourself," suggested the Pharaoh with a nod towards the banquet jugs. "Sit with me."

The servant bowed, and he went to do as he was bidden. Genesis looked at Asim again, and he caught sight of Kasmut glancing his way with disapproval. He raised a brow at the warrior maiden, and she quickly looked away. The young man returned a moment later to kneel at Genesis' side, next to the lounge on the cushions situated there. Genesis absently reached out to stroke his braids, his gaze settling on Asim.

"You're a fine specimen of man," he murmured to the servant. "Would you like to share my bed tonight?"

The servant's eyes lit up, and he visibly swallowed. His dark gaze roved over Genesis' reclined body with lust he couldn't hide, and he nodded. "If it would please you, my Pharaoh."

Genesis considered taunting him, but then he frowned. Angeal wouldn't like that. His frown deepened, and his brows drew down. What did _he_ care if Angeal approved of his actions or not? He lived by his own code. He ruled this land, and he ruled his emotions. He prepared to make good sport of the young man sitting so hopelessly enthralled beside him, and he sighed. His heart just wasn't in it. He couldn't even mock his suitors. Somehow, Angeal had found and unlocked some hidden well of compassion within him, and teasing people just wasn't as much fun anymore.

"I...would not be pleased," sighed Genesis. "You're fetching...but I think I desire solitude for the night." He very nearly admitted that his duties were weighing too heavily on his shoulders to even take comfort in a warm body, but revealing such a weakness would bring nothing but trouble. He sure as _Hades_ wasn't about to admit to this lowly servant that the mere thought of sharing his body with another man would feel like a betrayal to Angeal.

"I...understand, Highness." The servant bowed his head in acknowledgment, taking the hint. He got to his feet again. Having been under the service of the Pharaoh for long enough to know when he was being dismissed, he walked away without further comment, taking the rejection with stoicism.

Genesis sighed into his cup as he drank, and his gaze flitted back to Asim. He saw the green eyes watching him, and he lost patience. He crooked finger at the advisor. "Asim, a word."

The dread in the advisor's dark face couldn't be feigned if he tried. He obediently approached Genesis' lounge and he knelt before it, on the left side. "Yes, Highness?"

"You tried to set me up." Genesis sipped his drink calmly, his kohl-lined, aqua gaze following the retreating man who could have been his bed partner for the evening.

"Yes." Asim bowed his head. "But, it was only because you are in denial."

"In denial for what, praytell?"

Asim looked at him patiently, his jade eyes slightly wary. He kept his voice prudently low as he answered him. "Your true feelings for your Banoran, my Pharaoh. He was more to you than a slave...more than a source of amusement."

Genesis shut his eyes and sighed, beyond the point of being angry with the man, right now. He was used to Asim, and he trusted him above all others on his council. Killing him for speaking his opinion would be a waste. Asim often kept his head level in delicate matters, and he supposed he thought of him almost as a cousin.

"What would you have me do, then? Keep him as my slave? We've discussed this."

"You know what I would have suggested, Pharaoh."

Genesis scratched beneath his mask, finding it stifling. No wonder Zack hated wearing these contraptions. "You would have me take him on as my consort. I can't do that."

"He's a seraph, like yourself," reminded the advisor softly. "Why would you hesitate? You have a dynamic with him that I have never seen before."

"Because he hasn't _lived_ as a seraph," muttered Genesis, peering through the smothering mask at the festivities. People were dancing, laughing and dining beneath the podium, enjoying the banquet provided by their protector. "I grow weary of explaining this. Angeal needs to grow into his own, before I can call him mine again."

"Then you _do _intend to claim him again eventually."

Genesis paused. _Did_ he? His initial stance was that it was entirely up to Angeal to decide whether they would be united again, but could he be selfless enough to allow him that decision?

"Your hesitation reveals your conflict," remarked Asim—stupidly.

Genesis glared at him. "Your verbal ejaculation reveals how your mouth separates from your brain, at times."

"Forgive me." Asim bowed his head. "It was only an observation, my king."

Genesis waved it off. "Leave my relationship woes for me to solve, Asim. Attempting to do so yourself may cost you, in my blackened mood."

Asim sighed heavily and left it at that. "As you wish."

Deciding he couldn't stand any more of this idle sitting, Genesis got to his feet, and he began to pace restlessly on the podium. His people watched him uncertainly, many of them looking as though they wanted to comfort him or offer him something, if only to quell the uncommon discomfort he was displaying. Someone brought food to him, and he reclined again with obvious reluctance to eat. He closed the gauzy canopy around his lounge for privacy as the festivities continued, and he drank. He drank until he began to feel dizzy, calling for refills as soon as he drained his mead. He started to drift off, when it occurred to him that his bladder was full.

"Fuck."

"Pharaoh?" It was Asim's voice.

"I'm fine," grumbled Genesis. He tried to get out of his lounge, but he found it uncommonly difficult. His body was responding sluggishly, and somehow during his struggle, his ebony wing emerged. It flapped impulsively as he tried to get up, and it got tangled up in the gauzy canopy. He couldn't understand _how_ it happened, and the more he tried to pull it free, the worse it became entangled.

"Goddess, what in the—" He pulled with both hands at the material, scowling.

"Here, allow me to assist," offered Asim. He tried to take hold of the canopy material, but Genesis lost his grip at the last moment and his elbow popped the advisor rudely in the nose, making him stagger and see stars. Asim narrowly avoided falling onto his ass, and as he made a wild grab for a nearby brazier for support, he scalded himself a little and he hissed a curse.

"Pharaoh, stop fussing," advised Asim in a distracted tone, trying to come to his aid again when he heard the material ripping.

"Tell the damned thing to let go," slurred Genesis.

"I...I can't..." Asim's voice was uneven with amusement. "Linen doesn't obey commands, Highness. Let me—" He tripped as he reached out to help him, and he knocked over the brazier.

"You imbecile!"

Genesis lurched out of the couch, taking half the canopy with him as it caught fire. Nearby guards and citizens immediately rushed to help when the material began to go up in flames. Kasmut acted more quickly than others, and rather than try to drown the flames with liquid of any sort, she ripped one of the banners from its fastenings and she dove at Genesis with it. She smothered the flames before they grew too strong, and she quickly ushered servants over to help her see to him and Asim as the smoke curled up from the unfortunate accident.

"Are you hurt, Pharaoh?"

"I'm...fine," Genesis said after collecting his dignity. He shot a glare at his advisor. "No thanks to _you._" He was more than a little buzzed by now, and he was feeling sorry for himself. The part of him that was still capable of rational thought reminded him that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea, to be out in the open in his condition. Getting slightly inebriated during an indoor event, when everyone was too caught up in loveplay and being crowded together was one thing. Nearly catching on fire in front of an entire banquet was another matter.

"I want this cleaned up," Genesis ordered with a gesture at the singed lounge.

"Immediately, Pharaoh." Asim wasn't about to argue with him.

* * *

Later that evening, when the festivities died down and people retired to their homes, the Pharaoh lay alone in his chambers, staring at the lattice window. The moonlight permeated the screen, casting lunar patterns on the floor and the sheets of Genesis' bed. He'd since sobered up from the experience at the feast, but he unfortunately remembered every moment of the conversation he'd had with Asim.

"Anjiru," he sighed, shutting his eyes. He rolled onto his back, and he imagined having that big, powerful body stretched out on top of him, rubbing against his. He reached beneath the covers, where his erection waited flush and eager for some relief.

"You'll come back to me," he sighed. He gripped the shaft of his arousal, and he began to stroke it. "You're mine, Angeal."

As he pleasured himself and imagined that it was his lost slave's hand stroking him so lovingly, Genesis admitted to himself that he belonged to Angeal as much as Angeal belonged to him.

* * *

-To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 12

* * *

Author's note: Part of this chapter has been cut to comply with FFnet's censorship. You can read the adult, uncut version at Archive of our own and Ygallery, both of which are linked under my profile.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

When they arrived back in Gongaga, Zack demonstrated exactly what Aerith had warned Cloud about. He flirted, he kissed, he caressed…he even stroked Cloud off to completion on the second night after their return…but he always stopped things before the blond could fully reciprocate. He got started right away on making the necessary changes to his territory and the way he governed it, and Zack exhausted himself in the first three days. Cloud supported him as much as possible, whilst trying to help Tifa adjust to life in the jungle village at the same time.

"I'm okay, kid," Zack chuckled on the third night, as they settled in for bed. Cloud had pulled his shirt off and he was now massaging his shoulders with strong, capable fingers. "Mmm, that feels real good, though." He shut his eyes in appreciation as blond kneaded sore, tense muscles.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," murmured Cloud, "and Aerith told you not to do that."

"Yeah, but Aerith isn't here," sighed Zack, "and there's a lot to be done. I've _got_ to push myself, if I want to get things done. I'm afraid I'll procrastinate if I don't."

"Well, you need to slow down a little," Cloud insisted. He worked his way down Zack's back from his shoulders, taking care to massage tension knots away as he went. He admired the curve of the Wolf Lord's strong back even as he lectured him. Zack was put together _very_ nicely, and Cloud began to get aroused from the intimate contact.

Zack turned his head to wink at him. "Are you going to tell on me if I don't?"

Cloud took the initiative, remembering Aerith's suggestion. He cupped the side of the seraph's face to keep him from turning his head away, and he leaned in for a kiss. Zack's lips parted in surprise, and Cloud's tongue delved between them to stroke inside his mouth. He was encouraged when the other man returned the kiss, after getting over his initial surprise. The glide of Zack's tongue against his aroused the blond further, and Cloud deepened the kiss. He pushed the fingers of both hands through Zack's dark spikes as the other man shifted, twisting around to face him.

"Cloud," murmured Zack huskily.

He put his arms around him as Cloud pulled one hand away from his hair and laid it on his bare chest. He stroked the smooth, powerful expanse with admiration, and he pushed gently, urging the seraph down onto the thick bedding they sat on. Zack lay back compliantly, his tongue thrusting and caressing in Cloud's mouth as he began to dominate the kiss. Getting more and more restless with each moment, Cloud reached down to unbutton the seraph's pants. Zack gently grasped his wrist to stall him, breaking the kiss to speak a soft warning to him.

"Cloud, I've got a fine line of control," he reminded, his amethyst gaze burning with lust.

"It's okay," assured the blond softly, resuming his actions.

Zack's grip on his wrist loosened up, and the resolve on his handsome face wavered. For someone that could be so confident and assertive, Zack was demonstrating that he had his uncertain moments, too. It was just as Aerith said, and though he wasn't usually sexually aggressive, he wanted him too much to back down. He finished undoing Zack's pants and when he reached into them to squeeze and fondle his arousal, the raven wing made an appearance. Zack gasped and pushed into Cloud's touch, the bedding shifting beneath him as the large wing pushed it's way out, ripping through the material of Zack's shirt.

"Good thing I've got extras," gasped the Wolf Lord, and then he caught Cloud around the waist and rolled with him, pinning him beneath his body. He loomed over him with lupine, blue-violet eyes, his disheveled black hair framing a face tense with need.

"Last chance to back out, Chocobo," he panted.

Still gripping the seraph's arousal, Cloud stared up at him with parted lips and hungry blue eyes. He was breathing heavily too, in his desire, and he shook his head. "I'm not backing out. I trust you, and I want to be with you."

He demonstrated the sincerity behind his words by stroking the hardened flesh he held. Zack's erection throbbed in Cloud's hand, and the seraph groaned low in his throat. The sound faded into a growl, and Zack lowered his mouth to his and kissed him. Talking ceased from that moment on, with the exception of gasped and groaned exclamations of pleasure and encouragement.

* * *

That night, Cloud proved to Zack that his innocent appearance wasn't a measure of his sensuality. Much as Aerith had done when she finally got tired of waiting on him to mate with her, Cloud displayed instincts that blew him away. Once he was ready for him, Cloud gave Zack all of his passion…and then some. Sometime later after winding down, Cloud gathered the courage to ask Zack more about his past. They lay sated in the afterglow of their passion, spooned together on the thick bedding. They'd replaced the soiled blankets with clean ones, and he snuggled into them with appreciation despite the warmth of the night.

"So you never met your birth parents?"

Zack kissed his shoulder and shook his head. "Nope. They left me at the mayor's doorstep with a note, if you can believe that."

Cloud frowned. "Wow. I'd think they'd want to keep you, since there are so few of you left."

"Maybe they couldn't," reasoned Zack softly. "I have no idea what their reasons were, but I'd like to think they gave me up out of love. Mom and Dad—my foster parents, that is—they were already kind of over the hill when they adopted me. They had one son that died in a war a few years before I was born, so I guess it filled a void for them to take me in, instead of giving me to a younger couple."

"What happened to them? I mean, if you don't mind telling me."

"Well, Dad had a stroke and he never made it out of the infirmary. Mom passed a couple of years later in her sleep. They never did find out what killed her, but she was pretty old. I think her body just gave up."

The blond frowned. "I'm sorry." He reached up and caressed the hand that was rubbing his arm.

"Don't be." Zack kissed him on the temple. "They had a good, long life and we had plenty of great times together. Everyone goes sometime...even Seraphim. They didn't suffer, and I'm grateful for that."

"Man, I wish I could have your attitude," sighed Cloud. "I was really bitter for a long time, after my Mom passed away. Dad died when I was just a baby, so I never got to know him. When she went, though...the only reason I stayed in Nibelheim was for Tifa. I didn't give a damn about anyone else."

"Hmm." Zack kissed his ear. "I'll bet you'd care, if the townspeople were ever in real danger. Maybe you don't get along with them, but it's where you grew up."

Cloud shrugged. "Maybe."

Zack grinned against his cheek and he hugged him around the waist. "Back to short, one-word sentences, eh? I knew I couldn't keep you talking for long."

Again, the blond shrugged. "I don't know what else to say."

Zack sighed deeply and he relaxed his embrace to stroke Cloud's hips. "I've got something you can say. Tell me you'll keep an eye on things here for me, in a week or two."

Cloud frowned and turned his head to look up at him. "Why?"

"I've got to make a trip to Banora," answered the Wolf Lord, "to check in on my friend Angeal. He's got a lot on his plate and I think he could use a little help coping with the changes in his life...even if he won't admit it. He's tough, but I'm worried he'll crack eventually, if he doesn't have someone to  
give him a little guidance."

"You're going to guide him?" Realizing how insulting that sounded, Cloud flushed and stammered a quick revision. "I...I mean...maybe he'll be okay without you."

Zack chuckled softly. "I know what you meant, fluff-head. Yeah, I'm a sucky choice for a teacher, but Seph had his own problems to deal with and Genesis...well, let's just say he needs to sort out his own issues. That leaves me."

"I understand," Cloud said...and he did. He'd traveled all the way here on his own to get help for Tifa, and he couldn't begrudge Zack the chance to help his friend. "But you want _me_ to be in charge here? Um...is that a good idea?"

"Hey, I trust you," insisted Zack, "more than I trust anyone else to keep things progressing, except maybe Clarice." She would have been the one he turned to, if Cloud weren't here. "You're more level-headed than I am, and Clarice will help you out. I just need someone to keep things moving smoothly for a while. I'll stay in Banora for a week, and then I'll head to the Temple of Ancients to visit Aerith for a week. Do you think you can handle that for me?"

Cloud sighed, feeling he had no choice in the matter. "I've never been in a leadership role, but I don't want you to be stuck here if you're worried about your friend. I know how hard it is for you to be separated from Aerith, too. I'll do my best."

Zack kissed him with gentle passion as a reward. "I knew I could count on you, Cloud. I wouldn't go away for even a couple of weeks at a time like this, if I didn't think you can handle it. Just remember, if you see the first sign of trouble, you contact all of us, and I'll come running."

Cloud nodded, his stomach tightening at the thought of an invasion attempt. Zack was still on good terms with Wutai, but after what happened to Sephiroth, he wouldn't rule out the possibility that ShinRa might make a move on his territory. At least he'd have Tifa and Clarice to advise him, if he got stuck.

* * *

Days passed into weeks, and it was perhaps because they'd known him his whole life that the citizens of Banora came to accept Angeal's true nature. It certainly didn't hurt that he'd sworn only to protect the town and the islands it was a part of from hostilities, rather than attempting to take over. The mayors of Banora and Mideel were still in charge. If anything, Angeal was pledged to serve the people of the islands, not the other way around. They were understandably wary of him at first. Most of them had never actually _seen_ a seraph in the flesh before, so he faced more awe than fear.

It took some work, but people were beginning to get used to him. As long as he didn't display his wing in public or do anything extraordinarily inhuman, the citizens of Banora treated him more or less as one of their own. They were less eager to be social with him than he remembered, but that had its bonuses, as well. He no longer had to worry about the local farmers and shop owners trying to set him up with their daughters. Who would want to see his daughter wedded to and bedded by a winged freak? While Angeal wasn't happy that they apparently saw him that way now, he was exceedingly thankful that he no longer had to ward off hopeful mothers and fathers.

Sadly, this didn't apply to the daughters themselves, he learned. If anything, his condition seemed to attract more admirers than before. True, he'd been the subject of flirtation plenty of times in the past, but now that people were getting over their initial fear and uncertainty, they seemed to find him exotic and intriguing. He even got some awkward, shy offers from a couple of young men, which he politely declined. Even if he'd been interested in taking advantage of their curiosity to satisfy his needs, his sense of honor wouldn't allow for it. That, and he couldn't stop pining for Genesis.

When he got word from Zack at the end of the month that he was going to be coming for a visit, he was all too happy to prepare accommodation for him. Since he'd already proven himself by capturing and detaining some looters earlier in the month, he had certain authoritative standing in town, and he was able to arrange a room for Zack at nicer of the two local bed and breakfast's, free of charge. Zack arrived as planned, and Angeal met him in on the planes outside town.

"Hey, big guy!" Zack impulsively hugged Angeal when the taller man extended a hand to shake in greeting. A little taken aback by the abrupt, affectionate move, Angeal awkwardly patted Zack on the back.

"Hello, Zack." Angeal stepped back to examine him. "Your hair is a little longer than I remember."

Zack stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, I'll get Aerith to trim it up a little, next time I visit her. I'm thinking of spending a week there after I visit here. Cloud's holding down the fort for me while I'm gone."

"It seems your blond friend has really come into his own." Angeal began to walk with him back toward the village, while his flight crew cut the engines of the air ship. They would stay with the craft, during his visit. He looked sidelong at the smaller brunet as they walked, taking note of the sheathed broadsword secured to his back, the combat boots he wore, and the ensemble of cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt. Zack's body was a little more muscular than he remembered, though still not as buff as Angeal's.

"You look good," complimented Angeal. "Have you been keeping up with your combat skills?"

Zack nodded and shook aside a hanging lock of black hair that had blown over his eye. "You know it. I've been taking things more seriously, now that Seph is moving in on ShinRa lands and things are starting to get real over on this side of the globe. Wutai hasn't been giving us any trouble yet, but we all know Tseng is going to side with the president, if it comes to open war. I've been working hard on making some changes, you know? Tightening security and being a little stricter with the rules. It's not easy, though."

Zack sighed and he looked up at the increasing cloud cover overhead. "I'm not very good at this authority stuff. I'd try to pretend I'm Genesis or Sephiroth, but it's no good; I can't be as stuffy as they are."

Angeal smiled a little. "I'm sure you're growing into it on your own. You need to rule as _Zack_, not as Genesis or Sephiroth. Are you sure you should be away from home right now, though? True, the Serpent King is keeping ShinRa too busy for them to consider a campaign against your territory right now, but you never know, with them."

"So you've been keeping up with the news," observed Zack.

Angeal nodded. "As closely as possible. Banora and Mideel are isolated, but the conflict could still reach us here. ShinRa should be sending their trade negotiators soon, and it's important that we be prepared to face any threat that might come to these lands."

Zack nodded in approval. "Sounds like you're falling into this leadership thing faster than I ever did. And here I was worried about how you were coping."

"You were?" Angeal gave him another of his quiet smiles. "I appreciate that, Zack. Honestly, some days are hard, but I'm getting by. People trust me now, and that's important if I'm going to be the guardian of these islands."

Zack smirked. "I'll bet this wasn't what Gen had in mind, when he 'gave' you Banora."

Angeal shrugged, and he absently kicked a small rock away from the path. "Genesis withdrew his protection from this territory with the assumption that I would rule it, as he rules over Menephera. I'm just not like him. I'd rather be a soldier and a protector, than a king."

"I hear ya," sighed Zack. "I grew up as the mayor's adopted son, and when I had to take over it scared the hell out of me. Gen and Seph gave me the push I needed, but it's taken this long for me to really dig in and take my leadership role seriously. I kind of wish I'd done it like you...handed the reins over to someone else and just stuck with protecting Gongaga. There wasn't really anyone else to take over, though."

"You've worked with what you had available to you," reasoned Angeal, "and from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing well."

"Thanks, man." Zack looked up at the bigger warrior contemplatively. "Feel like tossing the pigskin for a while, after I've got my things settled in at the bed and breakfast?"

"Sure."

* * *

Under an hour later, Zack and Angeal were tossing a football back and forth in a field outside town. They chatted about mundane things, and then Angeal politely inquired about Zack's love life.

"I don't mean to pry," he said with a slight grunt as he threw the ball back, "but how are things between you, Cloud and Aerith?"

"They're great," assured Zack with a grin. He winced as he caught the forcefully thrown ball, and he tossed it back with vigor. "I can't believe how lucky I am. They aren't a bit jealous of each other. Hell, sometimes I even think they tip each other off on some things. Cloud calls Aerith up sometimes just to talk to her."

"Good." Angeal's dark blue gaze was cautious. "And...the girl they rescued from ShinRa? His friend...what was her name; Tifa?"

"Yeah, Tifa," agreed Zack. "She's doing okay. I don't think she likes the climate too much, but I'm going to do whatever I can to make it safe for her to go home again. I haven't figured out _how_, but it'll come to me eventually."

"Then you and she aren't..." Angeal left the sentence hanging, pausing in his throw.

"Don't listen to Genesis," Zack chuckled. "I'm not starting a harem, no matter what he says. I mean, she's really cute and she's got a nice rack, but I've almost got more than I can handle with Cloud and Aerith. Besides, I don't think she looks at me that way...even if she thinks I'm cute. I get the feeling there's someone else."

"Oh?" Angeal finally threw the ball.

"Yeah. She hasn't said anything to Cloud as far as I know, so that tells me she's not ready to make it official."

"How can you be sure she has a love interest at all?"

Zack snorted and caught the ball. "I'm Zack, remember? I can smell these things."

The comment provoked a more open smile on the bigger man's handsome face. "Of course. I wish I knew how you do that."

"It's a gift, man." Zack threw the ball back to him. "I could sense how crazy Genesis was about you, too. He was really worried when you were out during your transition. I've never seen him scared like that, before."

Angeal nearly missed catching the ball. He lowered his gaze and he frowned at the object in his hands. "If you say so."

"I _do_ say so," insisted Zack stubbornly. "He misses you, too."

Angeal gave him a subtly hopeful look, and Zack expanded on that statement. "I mean, he won't say it out loud, but I dropped by Menephera on my way out of the continent to come here, so I could tell him where I was going in case anything happens while I'm away. He flinched a little when I mentioned Banora. I'm telling you, don't give up on him, okay? I think you two fit together and he'll come to his senses, eventually."

"And then what?" asked the big man. "He and I are very different people, Zack. Did I tell you what he did with the taskmaster that beat me?"

Zack shook his head.

"He decapitated him," answered Angeal tersely, "and _then_ he made a planter out of his skull and tried to give it to me as a gift!"

Zack blinked, and his mouth twitched. "You...don't say."

"It isn't funny, Zack," lectured Angeal. "Genesis took his life just because he offended him. I can't fathom that sort of behavior, even if he thought he was doing it for me."

"Okay, look," Zack reasoned calmly, "I'm totally with you on the moral outrage factor, okay? He shouldn't have done that. Try to look at it this way, though; if it were anyone else, Genesis would have just had the guy whipped as punishment."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Angeal dragged his fingers through his dark, feathered hair. Even as he recalled the moment and how horrified he'd been, he couldn't deny that some part of him was touched by the thought...and that only confused him more. "Zack, a man died because of my intransigence. If I had just done as I was told and not rebelled, he would have lived. I didn't deserve to be beaten like that, but he didn't deserve to die for it. I was a slave, and Genesis had only known me for a grand total of a day, when he found out about it. There isn't an excuse."

"You're his split-apart," insisted Zack. "A day is all it took, man. His soul recognized you, even if his mind didn't. Call it hokey all you want, but evidence shows I'm right. Genesis usually doesn't go around killing his subjects, even when he's mightily pissed off at them. As warped as it is, what he did was a grand gesture of love, big guy—even if he didn't know it. He was trying to give you the head of your enemy, and in his part of the world, that's kind of a big honor."

Angeal lowered the ball, forgetting all about tossing it back to him. True, he'd considered Genesis' cultural upbringing when the Pharaoh tried to give him the gift, but Zack's explanation was a stunning reminder that the gesture had been completely innocent, in the eyes of the man performing it.

"I never thought of it that way," he murmured, remembering the flash of hurt and disappointment in Genesis' stunning eyes when he rejected his offering. This realization made him feel even worse, of course. He'd known it was something like that, but Zack's plain, matter-of-fact explanation drove the point home.

"I owe Genesis an apology." It was the perfect excuse to arrange a trip back to Menephera, and he cursed himself for his weakness even as his heart leaped at the possibility. It had only been a little over a month since he'd left, and he had eleven more to look forward to before he could officially go back to the Pharaoh.

"You can give it to him during the fall festival," suggested Zack with a wink. "Gen's going to be hosting it this year, at the end of the month. Think you can wait that long?"

"Maybe I shouldn't go," murmured Angeal uncertainly.

"Don't think like that. You're one of us now and it's traditional for us to get together during holidays. Even Sephiroth will be going, and he's got his hands full with his campaign. If you don't show up, it'll be like rejecting us."

Angeal grimaced. He certainly didn't want to hurt Genesis' feelings again. He just wished he could sort out the tangle of emotions he was suffering through and think clearly, when it came to the man. Could he just visit, without trying to get him into bed or convince him to let him come back?

"I'm pathetic."

Zack evidently guessed why he blurted the self-depreciating statement. "No, you're not. You're just a guy in love."

* * *

While Angeal was trying to decide what he wanted to do about Genesis, Reeve was working hard on several projects at once. Vincent noticed that he was stretching himself thin when he took a walk around the facilities to supervise the progress his people were making, thus far. Most of them weren't aware of his true nature. He kept those that were under tight surveillance, with the exception of Reeve Tuesti. The engineer was about the only human he trusted not to betray his secret to the world, and Vincent sometimes questioned himself for being so trusting of a man who was willing to go against his own government.

He found Reeve in the dome, working on the extendible weapon that should have been finished at least three weeks ago.

"Drillbit, check those power settings again," Reeve ordered one of the workers, who hastened to comply.

"It's holding steady now, Sir," announced the worker as he read the meters. "The Mako levels are rising!"

"Just keep an eye on it," advised Reeve, and he began to climb down from his perch on the weapon. He spotted Vincent as he stepped off the ladder and he wiped his hands on his smudged pants before approaching him. He gave Vincent a respectful nod rather than offer his hand, when he realized the grease wasn't coming off that easily.

"Mr. Valentine," he greeted formally. "As you may have overheard, power levels are holding steady."

"Good," approved Vincent. His gaze went to the weapon and he self-consciously adjusted the shades concealing his eyes from head-on view. "You've seemed...distracted."

Reeve compressed his lips and glanced at his people. "I'm going to take a break, everyone. Keep working."

They diligently voiced their agreement, and Reeve made an elegant gesture at Vincent. "Shall we?"

Vincent nodded and he walked with him out of the dome. The engineer led him into his office, and once the door was shut and locked behind them, Reeve turned to face Vincent. "My work on the cannon has been impeded by the work I've been doing on the submarines," he explained. "I've had to prioritize and slack off a bit, in order to meet my quota."

Vincent sighed. "I'm not happy with this delay."

"I know, and I apologize for that." Reeve went to the small bathroom in the back of his office, and he began to wash his hands while Vincent took a seat on his lounge. "I'm working as fast as I can, but if I don't complete Rufus Shinra's task in time, he'll want to know why it was delayed. Any excuse I give could just lead to more questions, so I'm trying to avoid having to make one altogether. Rufus is still fuming over the dud keystone and the loss of his political prisoner, and he lost control of the Mithril Mines last week, to boot. Now isn't the time to raise his suspicions."

"I see." Vincent relaxed on the lounge, mindful not to put the soles of his boots on them as he stretched out sidelong on it. "You make a compelling argument."

Reeve finished up and he dried his hands off before emerging from the bathroom again. His dark gaze swept over Vincent, openly admiring him. "Can I just ask you why you're in such a hurry? You could potentially live forever, Vincent. You aren't operating under a time limit, like humans. You could out-last ShinRa, in fact."

"True," agreed the seraph with a nod. He drew his wicked, triple-barreled gun and he considered it thoughtfully, before placing it on the coffee table. "When the ShinRa empire is nothing more than written history, I may still be alive to remember which details are accurate and which aren't. That isn't the point, however. I want them stopped sooner, rather than later. I may have countless years ahead of me, but I don't want to live them under ShinRa's yoke."

Reeve nodded in understanding. The events of last month were a good example of why someone like Vincent wouldn't want the ShinRa empire to grow in power. There was also the matter of his former lover committing suicide after submitting to experimental treatments whilst pregnant with their child, in order to increase her chances of carrying to term. Vincent wouldn't give him the full details and Reeve hadn't pressured him, but as he understood it, the treatments did something to Lucrecia's mental state, and it got so bad she couldn't bear it any longer. Reeve assumed she lost the baby, and he could only imagine the pain Vincent must be living with, to lose both his mate and his unborn child.

"Let's just presume this objective of yours is going to succeed," mused Reeve as he stood over the reclining being. "What happens to Wutai? You haven't exactly been clear on that."

"Wutai is generally a peaceful nation," answered Vincent. He propped his shades on his head and he looked up at Reeve with his amber and crimson gaze. "Tseng is loyal to ShinRa, but he's no warmonger. With the organization gone, he'll have no reason to take hostile action against us, and as a civilized man, I believe he'll negotiate for peace."

"Begging your pardon, but that's a bit naive of you to presume."

Vincent frowned at him. "Which part?"

"All of it." Reeve began to pace the office as he spoke his thoughts aloud. "Tseng is a civilized man, this is true, but he has a ruthless side, too. His is just more subtle than his associate is, that's all. If you push him, he'll push back. Don't think he'll immediately fold if you bring ShinRa down. That's a dangerous assumption to make about a man like him."

"What do you know that I don't?" Vincent narrowed his eyes.

"Well, for starters I need to remind you that Tseng helped create the Turks, and he started his career as an assassin, before he took over in Wutai. Right now he has his hands full with the rebels in the hills trying to overthrow him, but he's good at multitasking. Don't overlook the threat he could pose just  
because he prefers to do things peacefully."

Vincent considered the information, and he nodded. "I'll remember that. Has the president told you yet where he intends to strike with this naval fleet he's been assembling?"

Used to Vincent's quickfire changes of subject, Reeve spread his hands helplessly. "I wish I had an answer for you. My spying abilities are limited, when it comes to his war strategies. If he's discussed it with anyone, it would be Scarlet or Heidegger. They're his war advisors, not me."

"Hmm. If you were to venture a guess, what would it be?"

Reeve shrugged and took a seat behind his desk. He opened a drawer and he procured a small map out of it, unfolding it to lay it over the surface. "Well, the most obvious target would probably be Gongaga, since he can't breech the Temple of the Ancients to get at Sephiroth." He tapped the map where Gongaga was located, in the thick jungles off the southern coast of the Eastern continent.

"But Rufus Shinra is never obvious," observed Vincent, prying himself off the lounge to approach the desk. He looked down at the map with a frown. "I think he would be less predictable. Gongaga may well be the easiest target, but the Seraphim probably know that and are prepared."

"And Rufus would come to the same conclusion," sighed Reeve. He shook his head and considered the map. "I suppose he could come up from that inlet south of Menephera. It's close enough to offer some element of surprise, if he gets his forces moving inland fast enough."

Vincent looked. "It seems too bold, even for him. The Serpent King's capitol is notoriously well-protected, but the Pharaoh has the largest army and a heavy arsenal of both weaponry and magic, at his disposal. Breeching Menephera would take the combined efforts of both ShinRa and Wutai, and even then, it wouldn't be a guarantee."

"Right," agreed Reeve with a nod, "so that leaves us with the territories to the south of Midgar. Rufus might not have plans to invade the Seraphim capitols at all. Maybe he just wants to take back his continent and the Mideel islands."

"That seems like a reasonable assumption," agreed Vincent, "but as you so keenly reminded me earlier, assuming anything when it comes to ShinRa and their allies is a bad idea."

"Then why were you asking me to guess his intentions?" Reeve fought a smile.

"I wanted to hear your thoughts," answered Vincent. "Consider it an effort to understand my enemies better. I'll consciously avoid presuming anything, but having an idea of what they may do next can be very helpful."

"Does it really matter where they intend to strike next, though?" Reeve gazed down at the map in contemplation. "They're going to lose people and weapons in the process, regardless of their target. That can only work in our favor."

"True, but I still prefer to have some idea of what to expect from my opponents."

"Speaking of which," Reeve said as a thought occurred to him, "what is going to happen with the Seraphim, exactly?"

"I told you already; that depends on them. Much as Tseng's role in this depends on his conduct once we've taken care of ShinRa. I'm not interested in an open quarrel with either Wutai or the other Seraphim, but if they oppose me, it may come to that."

Reeve wondered if he would ever completely solve the mystery that was Vincent Valentine. Just when he thought he understood his motivation, he found himself asking more questions.

* * *

The first thing that sprung to Genesis' mind when he got the phone call from Zack was that something had gone wrong. He hated using the telephone when he had a perfectly serviceable communication sphere, but he knew Zack might not be in a position to contact him that way. He told his guards not to disturb him as he ushered his secretary out the door and shut it behind him. He picked up the device lying on the valuable marble desk in the center of the chamber, and he absently fiddled with the spiral cord attaching it to its dial cradle.

"What is it now, Zackary?"

He frowned when he could barely hear the other seraph's response. "Speak up," he ordered. "I can hardly hear you through this confounded thing."

Zack yelled his response, his voice coming through more clearly—from the end Genesis was trying to speak into. "Are you holding it right?"

The Pharaoh blushed in humiliation as he realized he'd been holding the phone upside-down. Thankful that he'd shut the door before using the device, he turned it around so that the cord was coming out of the bottom part, rather than the top.

"There was...interference," he lied. "Can you hear me, Zackary?"

"Loud and clear," came the answer.

"Good. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Man, why do you and Seph always have to jump to conclusions, like that? I was just calling to let you know I'm going to be heading north tomorrow, to visit Aerith in the Temple. I thought you might want to hear how Angeal's doing."

The very name made his body react unconsciously. Genesis shut his eyes and pictured Angeal's chiseled, good-looking face and his deep blue eyes. He tried to sound casual as he spoke. "And how is he?"

Dammit. His voice held a husky note in it. The pup was sure to take notice.

"He's fine," assured Zack. "We practiced some flying techniques over the week. He's getting pretty good at it, but I don't think he'll ever be as fast or nimble as you and Sephiroth are. The guy's got too much bulk for that."

Genesis smirked, remembering with pleasure how good it had felt to have all that "bulk" pressing him down. Goddess, he missed that body. "How is he handling his leadership duties?"

"Well, he's the town protector," answered Zack. "He said it took a little time to gain their trust, but now they look to him when there's trouble."

Genesis found that confusing. "They don't defer to him in other matters?"

Zack chuckled. "He's not trying to 'rule' here, Genesis. He's left that up to the governors of Banora and Mideel. He's their solder, not their king. That's the way he put it to me, anyhow. He doesn't wear a mask in public, either."

Genesis rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I might have known," he sighed. "Does he at least make it clear to them that military matters are his dominion, then?"

"I guess so." There was a shrug in Zack's voice. "What's important is that he's coping, and he seems to have found a role he's comfortable in. That's what you wanted for him, isn't it?"

An interesting series of expressions conflicted on Genesis' face. Yes, he wanted him to find his way and be comfortable...yet a part of him was opposed to the thought of Angeal getting _too_ comfortable back home. He belonged to him, after all, and the selfish part of Genesis wanted this arrangement to be nothing more than a temporary learning experience for his Angeal, before he returned to his side where he should be. Banora was his _home_, though. Of course, he would be comfortable there. It made complete sense to him that Angeal had offered himself as the town's protector, rather than its lord. He was a natural born soldier, made to serve and protect.

"Genesis? Did I lose you?"

The redhead shook himself out of his troubled thoughts. "No, Zack...you didn't lose me. I'm still here. I'm...pleased...to hear that Angeal is adjusting well."

"He would have adjusted better if you'd just kept him around and taught him all the fine details of seraph-hood yourself."

"We aren't having this debate again," warned Genesis, "so rid yourself of the notion."

"Fine," grumbled Zack. "So anyway, I hope you're ready to show him a good time at the end of the month. He's coming to the fall festival."

Genesis froze. "Is he?"

"Well yeah. He's one of us now, remember? It wouldn't be right if he didn't come."

The Pharaoh shut his eyes again. "No, I suppose it wouldn't. You've explained these things to him?"

"_Someone_ had to."

Genesis sighed. "Zackary..."

"Yeah, yeah...I'm pushing my luck and you'll smite me if I keep it up," answered the brunet. "Though how you'll manage to do that from clear across the ocean is anybody's guess."

"Never underestimate the strength of my resolve, when I'm annoyed."

"I can already feel the heat," chuckled Zack. "Okay but seriously, I wanted you to know he's going to be coming. You've got plenty of time to figure out what you want to do and say to him, this way."

One auburn brow lifted. "What makes you think any 'doing' will take place?"

Zack didn't miss a beat. "Because I saw you lay a big smackaroo on him before he left, and I've seen the way you look at each other. There's going to be some 'doing' going on, oh yeah."

"Now you're venturing out of 'annoying' and into 'infuriating'," warned the Pharaoh. "I've made up my mind that Anjiru and I won't be conducting further interactions of the carnal sort until his year is up and he's decided what he wants."

"I only understood about half of that," Zack said dryly, "but I can tell you for sure that he _already_ knows what he wants, and so do you. You won't be able to keep your hands off each other. I'm willing to bet gil on that."

"Wager whatever you want," snapped Genesis. "Unlike you, I'm not ruled by my sexual urges."

"Ouch. That would hurt, if it wasn't a bald-faced lie."

Genesis heaved a sigh again. "If there's nothing else, I have duties to conduct."

"Is one of those duties to your royal jewels?" Zack snickered.

At the end of his rope, Genesis gave what he thought was an appropriate response. "Go fuck yourself."

Zack gave a low whistle. "You're getting better at cussing like a human, Gen. I'm not the one who needs to fuck myself, though. I'll be in the sweet embrace of my lady tomorrow. You, on the other hand..."

Genesis hung up the phone.

"Pest," he muttered, glaring at the object.

* * *

"Angeal, this came at the post for you." Mrs. Hewley offered the parcel to her son as she walked into the house. He took the wrapped box with a frown. It was roughly the size of his hand in length and width. There was no return address on it.

"Could it be from one of the friends you made in Menephera?" queried his mother, her curious gaze fixated on the box.

Angeal shook his head. "I don't know. I guess we'll find out."

He guessed it wasn't from Genesis, as he would have recognized the Pharaoh's flowing handwriting. The address and name on the parcel were written in slightly clumsy, blocky letters. The thought that Zack was playing a goodbye prank on him occurred to the big man as he carried the box into the living room and sat down with it. His friend had left town yesterday, but it would be just like Zack to drop off a parcel to the post office and tell them not to release it until he was gone.

Half afraid of what he'd find inside of the package, Angeal tore the paper off and set it aside on the end table. The box was made of polished, dark wood, and he took a moment to admire the craftsmanship. He recognized the symbols burnt into the wood and his heart pounded. The package was from Menephera. One of the symbols was the phoenix.

"Aren't you going to open it, son?"

He'd almost forgotten about his mother, and he jumped a little when her question startled him. He swallowed and he undid the latch holding the box shut. When he lifted the lid and peered inside, he felt like there was a fist around his heart, squeezing it. He lifted the familiar collar out of the box, holding it up to the light. The blue gems glinted in the morning sunlight beaming in through the window, and he recalled the day Genesis put it on him.

"What a pretty necklace," observed Mrs. Hewley. "I've never seen a design like that, before."

_~That's because it's a slave collar, not a necklace.~_ Angeal didn't say his thoughts out loud, though. He saw a folded note in the bottom of the box, and he picked it up and opened it.

_"Angeal,_

_I believe you will want this, even if it brings you pain. Let it serve to remind you that a king waits for you here. If I am mistaken, I humbly apologize, but I am confident that I am not. When you are ready, you must show our Pharaoh that you belong at his side. We are all anxious for you to be reunited._

_-Asim"_

Angeal smiled softly, brushing his thumb over one of the gems before replacing the linked collar in the box. "I know who sent it."

"An admirer?" guessed his mother.

He shook his head. "No. A friend."

* * *

-To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 13

* * *

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

Genesis practically dreaded the end of the month. The fall festival was approaching and with each day, he suffered growing uncertainty. Damn Zack and his insistence on including Angeal in the festivities, anyhow. It wouldn't be right to exclude him, though. He was literally trapped by his own sense of propriety. His anxiety distracted him, and his only escape from it was to immerse himself in books at night, when the palace settled down and all of his daily responsibilities were complete. By day, he hunted with Sheba, and he didn't realize how much meat he had collected until Asim told him so.

"Pharaoh, you stand the risk of wasting food, if you continue stocking the pantries at this rate," warned the advisor gently one evening, after Genesis got cleaned up from his latest kill. "Our people are well-fed, and the ice house is running out of room. Let the meat you've already brought be eaten, before you hunt more of it."

Genesis smirked without humor. "Fine. I've lost my passion for it, anyway."

"May I suggest you try other things to occupy your mind? Chess, perhaps."

Genesis shook his head irritably and he picked up the comb waiting on his bedside table. He ran it through his damp hair as he considered his problem. "I'm too distracted for chess."

"Angeal?"

The seraph scowled at him. "No, the possibility of war. I've had my hands full securing our borders. Angeal is the furthest thing from my mind."

Asim bowed respectfully, keeping his green-gold eyes lowered. "As you say, my king."

Genesis tensed with frustration, sensing that he could see through the ruse. He turned to face the man, and he tried to think of some retort. Realizing that he'd agreed with him, even if his tone said otherwise, he had nothing.

"Leave me," bade Genesis. "And send in a masseuse. My back is full of tension knots."

"As you wish, Pharaoh. Shall I begin preparations for the festival? It will begin in only two days."

Genesis bit back a curse and absently reached down to give Sheba a pat when she rubbed against his leg. He hadn't realized just _how_ close they were to festival time. Excitement mingled with uncertainty at the thought of seeing Angeal again. Asim was waiting patiently for an answer, and he didn't want to further lend the impression of uncertainty.

"Yes, by all means, begin."

The advisor bowed again, leaving Genesis to his troubled thoughts in the privacy of his chamber. "I'll send in a masseuse for you, Highness," he promised as he walked out the doors.

* * *

While Menephera was preparing for the upcoming festival and banquet, Junon Harbor was preparing for a different endeavor, altogether. Reeve did some last minute adjustments and he instructed his crew to keep a sharp eye on everything, when he was finished.

"We can't afford any mistakes," he reminded them. "We'll test it on one of the defective submarines. Send it out to sea on auto-pilot and prepare to target it."

"Yes sir," they agreed without question.

Satisfied that his orders would be followed, Reeve stepped down from the deck and he left the dome, drawing his phone from his jacket as he went. He dialed out on it and a deep voice answered the other line, moments later. "It's me," he said to Vincent. "We're about to begin testing."

"I'll meet you outside on the deck," answered the seraph. "Good work, Reeve."

"Don't praise me yet," cautioned the engineer. "Save that for when the test is successful."

"Very well."

* * *

_The next day in Banora:_

The trade negotiators from Midgar had arrived, and he had to join the mayor to meet up with them outside the orchards. After recent attempts by "pirates" to steal Banora's unique fruit, he and the rest of the townsfolk were understandably wary of trade. It brought great revenue for the town, and it was really the only external source of gil for them. Mideel had their healers to draw foreign commerce, but Banora only had the white, arching apple trees and the exotic fruit they produced. For some reason, the Banora whites wouldn't grow anywhere else in the world. There was some property to the soil that allowed them to thrive there, and nowhere else.

He was a bit surprised when he arrived at the orchard to be informed that Rufus Shinra himself was there. He'd never seen the man in person before, and he was again surprised when the mayor pointed out which one was him. He hadn't expected someone so young…or attractive. The blond man stood dressed in a fashionable white suit that reflected the current style in his part of the world. A black shirt and shoes complimented the ensemble and his clear, blue-gray eyes took in everything, as if mentally storing information for future reference.

On his left was a tall, bald man with light brown skin and a build almost as powerful as Angeal's. He wore dark shades over his eyes, of a style unfamiliar to him. On the president's other side was a lanky man with wild, spiked red hair of a color nature didn't intend. It was pulled into a ponytail in the back, and he had crimson, crescent-shaped tattoos over his cheekbones. He reminded Angeal a bit of a fox in human form as he looked around with crafty, blue-green eyes.

"President Shinra," greeted the Mayor politely, stepping forward to offer his hand. Rufus took it and shook it briefly. His shrewd gaze went to Angeal, measuring him with some suspicion. It made Angeal wonder what he'd heard about him, and if he recognized who and what he was.

"I came to personally oversee trade negotiations," said the president. "The flow of produce has seemed a bit thin, recently."

"Dumbapples have been in high demand," explained the mayor, "and we've suffered some losses recently. Raiders burned some of the trees down and it will take time for replacements to grow back."

"I see." Rufus' gaze scanned the town behind them, up the path. "And are you doing commerce with anyone else?"

Angeal resisted the impulse to compress his lips as the mayor answered. "The Pharaoh of Menephera has been trading with us for some time," admitted the man. "He pays us well for the fruit we ship to him."

"I pay you well, too."

"Y-yes, you do," agreed the mayor nervously. "But we don't want to insult the Pharaoh by cutting off trade with him."

"I'm not suggesting that," answered Rufus coolly. "What I'm suggesting is that you consider the benefits of increasing trade with your own kind."

"Banora whites don't produce fruit on a fixed schedule," reminded Angeal sternly. "There is no seasonal produce. Some trees are dormant right now, and we can't force them to produce more to suit you."

"Then you can cut back on the amount you ship to Menephera," insisted Rufus. "I don't think that's an unreasonable request."

"Only because it would benefit you," reasoned Angeal as the poor mayor sputtered uncomfortably.

Rufus narrowed his eyes at him and the redhead beside him made a casual gesture that revealed the pistol under his jacket. Not one to be cowed, Angeal turned enough to reveal a full view of the massive blade secured to his back. The bald man's eyebrows went up and he muttered to the president.

"That's a big piece, boss."

The redhead snorted. "You said it, not me."

Rufus gave the latter a warning glance, before returning his attention to Angeal. "Hewley, is it? I've heard some interesting things about you. Word is getting out that you've become quite a formidable guardian of these islands."

Not entirely surprised and guessing that Rufus had heard more about him than he was saying aloud, Angeal nodded stoically. "Some people might say that. I leave the speculation to them and protect my home. That's all."

Rufus and his two bodyguards watched him with more than passing interest. A less disciplined man might have shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but Angeal just stared right back.

"Nice tan," complimented the redhead. "Doesn't look like you've got the complexion to get one like that here."

"I didn't get it here," answered Angeal. "But thank you."

"Are…we going to discuss trade negotiations?" asked the mayor uncertainly.

"I've already offered my terms," answered the president. "I'll give you time to make the arrangements, but I expect my Banora import rates to increase within a month. In the meantime, I'm happy to take whatever shipments you have available now off of your hands. I'm prepared to pay an advanced sum for them, of course."

"I don't think you've been paying attention," Angeal said, keeping his tone as polite as possible. "We haven't agreed to your terms of commerce. Banora is neutral territory, and we won't favor one government over the other." He looked at the mayor expectantly, "That was the agreement, wasn't it?"

"Well yes, but…"

"That isn't acceptable," insisted Rufus.

"Then you can go away empty handed." Angeal reached casually for a dangling apple overhead, and he plucked it from the branch and examined the ripe, tempting fruit. "It's only fruit to you, but it means something to the people of this land. I won't allow you to bully us into an arrangement that doesn't suit Banora or its citizens."

"Angeal," said the mayor in a warning tone when Rufus gave a nod at the other men and women waiting in the background. "Maybe we should re-consider the president's offer."

"I think you should listen to your mayor," suggested Rufus. "This doesn't have to become an uncivilized arrangement."

Angeal handed the apple to the mayor and he began to reach for the hilt of his weapon. Unlike Rufus, the mayor hadn't brought more than one man with him. The ShinRa people obviously believed that made him fair game to intimidate and bully, despite Angeal's powerful build and faintly glowing eyes.

"It's going to get uncivilized, if you don't tell your people to stand down," warned Angeal softly. "Others have come before you to ransack us, in greater numbers. You'll fail, just like they did."

"Now, we don't want a fight," interjected the mayor hastily, breaking into a nervous sweat. "Hewley, put that away. Mr. President, I'm sure we can come up with some reasonable agreement. Couldn't we just sit down and talk about this?"

Angeal understood his trepidation. This was no rabble of outlaws or raiders…these were organized forces from the most powerful human empire on Gaia. He guessed the ones in the black and white uniforms were Turks, and he'd heard stories about how ruthless and deadly they could be. Regardless, he wasn't about to back down. He'd vowed to protect the town he grew up in, and he meant to keep that vow.

"I can see this is going to get ugly," guessed Angeal when Rufus' men began to surround them. He drew the Buster Sword completely and he held it up in a warrior's salute. "Have it your way."

"Wait," said Rufus when his people started to draw their guns and the mayor fell to the ground to cower with his hands over his head. The president's clear gaze held Angeal's. "You're this determined to protect fruit?"

"I'm protecting my home," corrected Angeal, "and the orchards are part of that."

"We could use a man like you," murmured Rufus. "What if I could arrange a different sort of negotiation? ShinRa will leave your orchards and allow Banora to trade as they wish, if you'll consider joining our army."

Angeal stared at him. He'd already _been_ through an arrangement similar to that. He got the distinct impression that if he repeated history here, he wouldn't make it back again. "You must think I'm stupid. Or naive."

"On the contrary, you look like a man who knows the value of loyalty," answered Rufus calmly. "But I can see you need incentive. Reno…Rude?"

Angeal suddenly found himself fending off attacks from both the Turks at Rufus' side. The redhead struck with surprising speed, leaping through the air and coming down with some sort of baton he'd had concealed in his sleeve. Rufus ordered the rest of his people to stand back while Angeal tried to block and dodge the pair. Rude fired a gun at him, and as Angeal blocked the bullet with his sword, the bald man punched him in the stomach.

"Shit," complained the one named Rude a moment later, shaking his smarting hand and backing off.

Angeal said nothing, but he smirked inwardly at the Turk's reaction to the impact against his stomach muscles. The punch had hurt, certainly, but it hadn't knocked the breath out of him the way Rude had obviously intended. Angeal noticed that the president wasn't drawing against him or moving as his two Turks attacked him. They were testing him.

The redhead made it past his guard and Angeal clenched his teeth in pain as a spark of electricity jolted him when the baton struck his side. It caused a reaction he was helpless to avoid, and his wing emerged. The great appendage struck Reno hard of its own accord, swatting him backwards into the group of on-looking ShinRa personnel. He went down with two of them in a tangle of limbs and curses, while the rest stared openly at Angeal. The bald man's glasses had gone askew and he stopped reaching for his gun and stared.

"So it's true," said Rufus with interest. "Rude, Reno, stand down."

The bald man looked like he couldn't attack again if he wanted to.

"It's…white," observed Reno as he got back to his feet with the help of the others. "Why is his _white_, boss? It's on the wrong side, too."

"Because it is," snapped the president. He looked to Angeal again, then the mayor. "I won't press this matter for now, but I hope you'll consider the benefits of increasing trade with Midgar, in the future."

Angeal lowered his weapon, keeping a wary eye on the group as he offered a hand down to the mayor. The older man took it and got to his feet as Angeal eyed the president off.

"Your hostility was unwarranted," said Angeal. "There was no purpose to it, beyond greed. I think you should leave, now."

Rufus looked as though he might consider challenging that, but he was evidently wiser than Angeal thought. He nodded tersely and glanced at his companions. "We've overstayed our welcome. Come."

Angeal watched them go, heading down the path on the hill leading away from the orchards. "Get the town guard ready," he muttered to the mayor. "This wasn't about apples."

* * *

When Rufus returned to the airship, he met up with Scarlet and Heidegger in his quarters and he locked the door behind him before speaking to them.

"It's true. They have a seraph, now."

"How?" demanded Scarlet. "There were only three. Where did this one come from?"

"That's what we need to determine," answered the president. "Either these creatures have greater numbers than we thought and some of them are still in hiding, or they've begun to reproduce again. This one isn't quite like the others. He has a smaller wing beneath the primary one, it's white, and it's on the right side of his body, rather than the left."

"Well, this one is in relatively unprotected territory," Heidegger pointed out. "Now that the Pharaoh has withdrawn his forces."

"He must have given this 'Hewley' character dominion," reasoned the president. "And yes, Banora is vulnerable. We've never considered the territory that important before, because the only thing it had to offer aside from the remedies in the forests of Mideel are the apples of Banora."

"But now they have something more valuable to us," Scarlet said with a smirk. "Shall we begin making arrangements, President?"

"No," he answered, drawing a frown from her. "Not yet. Let's not be rash. Hewley is on his guard now. Let them all relax a little."

Scarlet smiled. "Excellent plan, sir. Will you contact Hojo and Hollander about this? If we manage to bag this one, they'll need to get started right away."

"Yes, and in a different facility," sighed Rufus. "I won't have a repeat of the last time. I'm not even sure I'm interested in taking him prisoner."

"Sir?" Heidegger stared openly at him.

"He's huge," explained Rufus, "and there's no telling what hidden powers he has at his disposal. The last one was a disaster. If we take these islands, it might be better to concentrate on bringing him down than bringing him in alive. The scientists can still do their research on him."

"Hojo won't like that," predicted Scarlet. "He wants a live specimen. The disgusting old wart made it clear that the majority of his experimentation hinges on live subjects."

"We'll see," answered Rufus. "For now, let's move out of their territory and bide our time. Bringing this one in alive simply may not be an option, but nothing has been decided. Onto another matter; what is the status of Miss Lockheart? Has there been any word on her location?"

"No sir," answered Heidegger. "I sent people to search Nibelheim…discreetly, as you said. Word is they still believe she's being held in Midgar, so she hasn't returned home."

"Hmm." Rufus frowned, his thoughts going to the buxom young woman with the long, dark hair and unusual wine colored eyes. "Keep searching. If she survived, I would like to know."

"And then what?" questioned Scarlet. The frown on her ruby lips suggested she would prefer to find out that the Nibel girl was dead.

"Then we take her back, if possible," answered Rufus simply. "She's an important key to maintaining control of the northern part of the western continent. We can't begin to move in on the Pharaoh's territory if we can't keep control of our own."

"So until then, we lie to the mayor," reasoned Scarlet, "until we get the little bitch back. What if she's dead, though?"

Rufus scowled at the displeasing thought. "Then we keep up the deception until it becomes necessary to put Nibelheim under martial law and dispose of the mayor. I won't waste military resources on such a campaign unless I have to."

"Understood, President," agreed Heidegger. "We'll do our best."

"See that you do."

* * *

When they announced that his airship was ready for departure the next day, Angeal was reluctant to board for more than one reason. His father urged him to go, despite his concerns.

"Son, we've endured in the past without you and we'll do it again. ShinRa's good and gone. You spooked them."

"I don't think it's going to be that easy," he argued. "ShinRa isn't known for backing down so readily, and I still feel like they were trying to get more out of that visit than a bigger supply of apples. Something wasn't right about it."

Mr. Hewley exchanged a worried look with his wife. "You showed them your wing, you said."

"It came out on its own," reiterated Angeal. "I had no intention of showing it to anyone."

"Well, what's done is done," reasoned Mrs. Hewley. "Get aboard that ship and go and visit your friends to the west. We'll get along while you're away."

"But Mother—"

"Go," she interrupted sternly. "You could use some time away."

"I haven't been back for very long," he reminded.

"But you should spend some time with your own…uh…" his father trailed off and grimaced.

"My own kind, you mean," finished Angeal with a sigh. There was no denying he missed Genesis terribly, and he'd enjoy spending time with Zack again. He didn't really know Sephiroth well enough to miss him that much, but he knew he should try to get to know the Serpent King as well. Sephiroth was his closest ally, region-wise. If ShinRa tried anything with Banora, he could get people there to help sooner than the others.

"There aren't many of you left," reminded his mother. She hugged him around the waist. "I don't know what it's been like for you here, Angeal, but I think it's good for you to spend time with them, when you can. Just travel safe and we'll be waiting for you when you come back."

He hugged her back and he sighed. "You have the contact information I gave to you? You remember how to use the orb?"

His father grimaced. "We'll try the phone first, if anything should happen. Now go on. You've worked your ass off and it's time for you to have a break."

"Okay," he finally said, still uncertain. He looked at them both, then at the town behind them. "I'll be back within a week."

* * *

His foster parents watched him go and when he was on the ship and out of earshot, his father spoke to his mother in a low voice. "If they come back, they won't be getting their hands on our boy."

She nodded. "No, they won't. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that, dear."

"Well if it does, it better happen sooner than later," grumbled Mr. Hewley. "Better for it to happen when he's away. At least then he might be able to bring help from his friends."

"As long as ShinRa doesn't get him," she sighed.

He put an arm around her and together, they watched the airship take off and carry the seraph they'd raised as their own son away.

* * *

Angeal arrived in Menephera that evening—just as the festivities began. He spotted Sephiroth first as he flew into the city, and he grimaced a bit when some of the residents bowed before him as he came in for a landing. He was still dressed in Banora clothing, and he felt suddenly strange and out of place. Sephiroth was speaking with his water maiden Aerith, when Angeal approached. He was wearing an embroidered loincloth with black, silver and green threading. Silver chains with colored stones draped his chest and shoulders artfully, like an elaborate webbing of jewelry. The girl noticed Angeal first and she smiled in recognition. Her garb, like her master's, were suited to the jungle environment surrounding the Temple of Ancients.

"Hello, Lord Hewley," Aerith greeted with a graceful little bow as the big seraph approached uncertainly.

Sephiroth turned, his silver mane blowing gently in the warm evening breeze. He eyed Angeal from behind the mask partly concealing his face, his emerald gaze narrowing. "You wear no mask."

Angeal nodded. "No offense intended, but I've chosen not to put that into practice. Everyone in Banora already knows my face, as do the people here. If you wish me to wear a mask when and if I ever visit your temple, I'll comply."

The Serpent King made a dismissive sound in his throat. "Have it your way. The Pharaoh is in the banquet hall, if you're interested in greeting him."

That was much easier than Angeal expected it to be. Sephiroth clearly wasn't a very social creature, but Angeal expected him to be more adamant about dress codes for their kind. Perhaps it was just because he was still "new" that Sephiroth didn't heckle him about his choice in attire or his lack of a mask. Honestly, Angeal had yet to have one crafted, though he supposed if he were to do so, it would be in the likeness of a bear or stag, as Zack had suggested.

He wondered where Sephiroth's advisor was, until he spotted him near the side of one of the stone buildings up ahead, near the massive palace. When he saw that Lazard was standing stiffly with a rather upset look on his face, he became more curious than he would have liked. It was none of his business, whatever that was about. Lazard was leaning against the side of the building and looking up at the night sky, with his shirt partway open in an unusual display of casualty on his part.

"I can take you to the Wolf Lord if you want," Aerith offered when Angeal just stood there indecisively. "He'll be glad to see that you made it here safely."

Angeal allowed her small hand to take his and he obligingly followed her, trying not to smile at her carefree ways as she practically skipped with him, her bare feet touching down softly on the sandy road. He spared one last glance Sephiroth's way, and he noticed that the Serpent King was watching his blond advisor with a pensive look on his sculpted face.

* * *

Sephiroth was very good at ruling his kingdom, defeating his enemies and basically terrifying anyone who overstepped themselves with him. He was not, however, good at apologies. He kept glancing at Lazard from the corner of his eye as he spoke with his council and Genesis', giving dignified nods of greeting here and there to Menephera residents that bowed to him. He hardly tasted the wine as he sipped it, and he grew irritated.

Lazard knew he wasn't a sharer, when it came to emotions. He could be very generous with his body, his lips, his tongue. He was less so with his feelings. He huffed a sigh of annoyance.

_~Bother. He'll sulk all night.~_

"Highness, did you hear me?"

Sephiroth looked at the council member who addressed him, and he couldn't for the life of him remember the man's name. "We are here to celebrate the fall season," he reminded the man archly. "I suggest you leave political matters out for now and drink until you forget your name, as I have."

The man stammered at the confession, clearly unsure of how to respond in a way that wouldn't piss his king off. In the end, he merely bowed to him and made himself busy elsewhere. Even more irritated by his own snarky, indignant behavior, Sephiroth looked at the source of his frustration and decided to put an end to this nonsense. So he called Lazard a "lesser being". He did that with all humans.

Sephiroth finished his goblet of wine and he absently placed it on the tray of a passing serving girl. He stalked over to his advisor, intending to tell him to put his silly angst away and behave as an advisor to a king should.

* * *

Lazard tilted his head down when he sensed his lover's approach. He looked at him with quietly accusing eyes and he snatched another drink from the golden tray of another passing servant. People were laughing and talking all around them, but they might have been alone in the street as Sephiroth closed the distance. Lazard could tell by the cool, unfeeling expression on the seraph's gorgeous face that he wasn't likely to hear an apology from him anytime soon, and he sighed.

"Sometimes you make me wonder what I'm doing here," he murmured when Sephiroth was close enough to hear.

The taller man regarded him silently, his slit-pupiled gaze subtly curious. "I haven't made it worth your while?"

Lazard looked him up and down. Sexually, yes…Sephiroth made it _more_ than worth his while. Sometimes, he couldn't keep up with him. The stunning creature acted like he was in heat at times, in the privacy of their bedchambers. Lazard looked away, before his appreciation of Sephiroth's beauty could lead his anger to waver.

"You'll never see me as your partner. Not the way you would if I had been born into your heritage."

Sephiroth lowered his gaze. "That isn't true."

"Isn't it?" Lazard pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and he took a swallow of his wine. "To you, I'm just a convenient body to lay with. I occasionally share my insights with you, but you don't really _need_ me. You said it yourself."

"I never said that," protested the seraph, his resonant voice finally giving away some hint of frustration.

"You referred to me as a 'lesser being'," reminded Lazard. "That was a clear indication to me that I'm only a source of amusement. You'll never see me as an equal."

"But you _aren't_ my equal," reasoned the seraph calmly. "You are my advisor."

Lazard gritted his teeth with frustration. He knew Sephiroth thought he was being perfectly reasonable, and he probably had no idea how insulting it was. "Can you even _begin_ to comprehend what it feels like, to have my lover say such a thing to me? Yes, I'm your advisor in court, but I thought I was more than that to you in other matters."

"You are. I thought I made that clear. Do I or do I not surrender my body to you, Lazard?"

The blond tossed his goblet to the ground in a rare display of temper. "You think your body is all I want. If physical intimacy were enough…but it isn't…I don't want it to be like this."

"You've drank too much." Sephiroth stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come, you should retire for a while."

Lazard pulled out of his grasp, glaring at him. "I'm not drunk, I'm pissed off."

Sephiroth looked outright perplexed, not used to hearing such crude language from him. "You understood this arrangement when you entered it. What would you have me do, defer to you in public?"

Lazard sighed. "Of course not. I want to know I _count_ to you, Sephiroth."

The seraph glanced around, his mouth compressing with displeasure.

"Oh, here we are," muttered Lazard. "I said your name out loud. How terribly insulting of me. Perhaps you should beat me to death."

"Where is this coming from?" Sephiroth's eyes flashed with increasing annoyance behind the mask.

"It's coming from me trying to provoke some sort of reaction from you beyond cool detachment," answered Lazard. "I'm not usually the sort of man that requires romantic overtures from my partners. In fact, I generally prefer to avoid them. Sometimes, however, I wonder if you feel anything at all for me."

Frowning, Sephiroth tried to reach for him again, and Lazard again dodged it. He held his hands up, palms out, and shook his head. "I think this is just too difficult for me right now. I'd like to be alone."

He then did something to Sephiroth that he'd never done before in the entire time he'd known him; he turned his back on him. He began to walk away, feeling those burning green eyes on him with every step.

"Lazard."

The advisor slowed and stopped uncertainly. Had he just heard a note of desperation in that voice? It was certainly more animated than usual. Perhaps it was just his own imagination, working overtime.

"Please, stop."

He did, then. He'd never heard Sephiroth utter the word "please", before. He turned around to look at him, confusion plain on his face. "Why? I bring nothing of real value to your court."

"If that were true, I would have allowed your brother to kill you."

The reminder struck Lazard to the bone, and he stared at him. Sephiroth again closed the distance between them. After some hesitation, he reached up and he slowly pulled his mask off to look at the human without its concealment.

"I never learned how to relate," murmured Sephiroth, "not the way you want. I thought I had shown you in other ways."

Suddenly Lazard felt like the bad guy. "You could have killed them all."

Sephiroth nodded, reaching out to caress his face. "Yes. It would have potentially cost you your life, however."

He knew that, and yet the hurt of hearing Sephiroth include him as a "lesser being" when he ranted about ShinRa and humans in general wouldn't go away. It was only words, but still…

"I…don't think of you that way," murmured the seraph, averting his eyes.

Lazard frowned, thinking his eyes must be deceiving him. Surely not…yet he could swear the moonlight was revealing a blush. Sephiroth was blushing. That in itself was stranger than any fictional piece of literature Lazard had ever picked up.

"Truly?" pressed Lazard, feeling a warning tug at the corner of his lips.

"Would I have said it, if I didn't mean it?"

The blond looked away now, trying to control his expression. "I just want to know if this is a real apology—in your roundabout way—or if you're simply trying to make things easier for yourself."

Sephiroth sighed. "I was in error. Can you stop punishing me, now?"

Lazard found that funny, now that the ache in his heart was somewhat salved. "_I'm_ punishing _you_?" But, he couldn't explain to him that he'd just been agonizing over the thought that perhaps he really did mean nothing to him at all. He couldn't make him understand that.

Giving up on thoughts of even trying to, Lazard boldly reached out to trace the jeweled chains draping Sephiroth's naked, toned chest and abdomen. "I suppose it would be terribly rude for us to make this up to one another right now, during the festivities."

A slow, sensual smile curved the seraph's mouth. "Some participants are already indulging themselves in pleasures of the flesh. You're correct, though. Our station doesn't allow for it, just now. When we've properly socialized with the others and had our meal, we can retire."

"I have no intention of 'retiring,'" promised Lazard. He slipped his hands underneath the chains, letting his palms slide over the velvety-smooth skin and the muscles underneath. "I'd advise you not to imbibe too much. I think I'll be overly restless, when this night is finished."

Sephiroth quirked an ironic brow. "Need I remind you of whom you're dealing with, Lazard? I'm rarely not in the mood."

"And that's a very good thing," agreed the human.

* * *

There were incense burners hanging in the banquet hall, and the fragrance of the smoking cones helped keep insects away as the people celebrated. The scent from them was subtle; pleasant enough to lightly perfume the air, without overpowering the smells of the food and drink. Zack sat between Cloud and Aerith on the piled pillows, chuckling as he told Angeal about his latest adventures in carpentry. Apparently Miss Lockheart decided to remain behind in Gongaga, when he and Cloud left to come to the festival.

"So then I fell through the roof," Zack finished. He tried to take a bite of the cheese wedge Aerith offered to him, but she pulled it away teasingly just as he started to close his teeth over it. "You little vixen...bring that back."

"What will you give me if I..._AAAHHH!_" Aerith fairly shrieked as the Wolf Lord tickled her ribs, and Angeal politely looked away as the beadwork tunic covering her breasts shifted enough to flash a brief glimpse of them. Zack wrestled her onto her back and growled playfully as she giggled and squirmed. When he had her subdued, she stared up at him with soft green eyes and offered the cheese again, smiling. "You win."

He took the wedge into his mouth and he licked her fingers briefly before chewing. "That's right," he said after swallowing the morsel. "Now for dessert."

Angeal suffered a moment of embarrassment when Zack started kissing Aerith deeply, and the young woman rubbed her bare foot against the back of his leg as he lifted her skirt a little to expose her calves. Cloud evidently wasn't entirely comfortable with the public display either, for the same reason as Angeal. He blushed as he looked away from the suddenly distracted pair, and he cleared his throat and reached for the tray of meats, cheeses and fruits sitting on the floor nearby. He offered it wordlessly to Angeal, who thanked him softly and tried to relax against the pillows. Other revelers were standing around the long table, dancing together, laughing or making out in little alcoves of the gilded hall.

Genesis sat at the dais at the head of the table, relaxing in his throne as he presided over the feast. He looked like a perfect, bronzed statue. Angeal tried not to stare at him, but he looked entirely too gorgeous tonight. He wore his mask for the occasion, of course, and his lips were painted gold to match his attire. He wore a ceremonial skirt with his signature colors of gold and red, a matching beaded collar and arm-bands shaped in the likeness of golden wings curving around his toned biceps. The laces of his sandals wrapped around his tanned calves sensually, and Angeal imagined himself loosening them and taking them off. Why he found a pair of sandals so sensual was a mystery to him, but then, _anything_ wrapping around any part of Genesis' body turned him on. He wanted to bind him to his bed and have him until they were both utterly spent.

A grape hit him in the forehead.

"Angeal, are you listening?" Zack's voice followed the light pelt of the fruit, drawing his attention away from the object of his lust. Angeal looked at the Wolf Lord—who had finally stopped mauling his female lover and decided to speak to him.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Angeal felt that aqua gaze on him and his body ached with desire, even as he did his best to keep his attention focused on Zack.

"I was telling you that your friend Kasmut is coming this way," Zack said with a smirk. "She just got here."

Angeal looked up and he smiled softly at the welcome vision of the warrior maiden approaching. He started to get up to greet her, but then she sank gracefully into a kneeling position and bowed her head in respect.

"Lord Angeal," she greeted. "May I join you?"

Feeling horribly awkward and self conscious, Angeal looked around and he noticed more than a few people watching him with curious expressions. Maybe he should have put more thought into a mask and requested Menephera garb, after all. He stood out, and unlike Zackary, he hadn't been with them for very long.

"Don't do that," Angeal said uncomfortably, scooting over. "Of course you can join me. We fought and trained side by side. You are my friend."

She smiled at him, displaying strong, white teeth. "I had to follow propriety, at least for public view. Share a cup with me?" She offered the goblet in her hand to him.

"Of course," he agreed, taking it. He sipped at the mead before handing it back to her. "You've become the leader of the maiden caste, from what I've heard. How do you like it?"

"Very much," she admitted. "I train my maidens hard, but fairly. I personally think they outdo the male guard, in their ferocity."

Angeal chuckled softly and took the cup back as she offered it to him. "I have no doubt."

Kasmut grinned. She sobered a little when it occurred to her that she was also in the presence of the Wolf Lord, and she offered him a bow from her seated position. "Gongaga Lord, forgive my rudeness."

Zack had been in the process of trying to feed a reluctant Cloud from his hand, and he looked a bit surprised beneath the half-cover of his wolf mask. "You weren't rude. Help yourself to the tray. There's plenty left."

She smiled at him, obviously used to his laid-back attitude. "You have my thanks."

She selected a cut of meat and she waved an insect away from it, before taking a bite and swallowing. She noticed the way Angeal's gaze kept sliding back to the great Pharaoh, who was now engaged in a conversation with the Serpent King and his royal advisor. They were relaxing in the cushioned seating beside Genesis' throne, and they ate off the tray selection sitting on the small cocktail table resting on the dais before them.

"Our Pharaoh would probably enjoy your company," she suggested softly to him, making a subtle gesture in Genesis' direction.

"He's involved in a conversation with others, right now," Angeal pointed out.

Genesis' eyes met his across the distance, and he realized that the fragrance of the incense was based on the same oils Genesis used on his body. Suddenly, it was like the Pharaoh's scent was surrounding him. Angeal pointedly looked away, trying to swallow his desire for the man. Kasmut said nothing more about it. Instead, she talked about how the weather had been lately and she inquired about the weather in Banora. Angeal described the way the leaves of the trees back home changed colors, this time of year, and as he thought of the red, orange and golden colors of those turning leaves, he was reminded of Genesis' hair.

The hour grew late, and Angeal noticed with some amusement that Zack's two lovers had fallen asleep together on the pillows. Aerith's head was on Cloud's shoulder, and his arm was around her in a silent, protective gesture. Zack was still full of energy, making rounds in the banquet hall to chat with people while he let his companions rest. Angeal looked up the length of the hall towards Genesis' throne, and he found it vacant. Sephiroth and Lazard were nowhere to be seen, either. They must have all retired for the night.

"Pardon me," said a familiar male voice from behind him, just as Angeal was about to inquire to Kasmut whether she'd seen Genesis leave or not. He turned and looked up to see Asim standing over him, and he got to his feet with a grunt.

"Asim," he greeted, smiling quietly at the man. "I was wondering where you were."

"An advisor's work is never done," sighed the dark-skinned desert dweller, smiling back, "but I will have more time to enjoy the ongoing festivities tomorrow. The Pharaoh has requested your presence in his chambers. You may go to him at your leisure, Anjiru."

Evidently, Gen's way of saying his name was catching on with the locals—at least those who attended his court. Angeal had even begun to call himself "Anjiru" in his head, which amused him, somewhat. A part of him thought it might not be a good idea to seek audience with Genesis right now. He'd had just enough to drink to loosen his tongue, as well as his morals.

"He has missed you," pressed Asim in a low voice, speaking the words for Angeal's ears alone. "It was not easy for him to ask, Anjiru. Pardon my boldness, but I can see you wish to see him, as well. Why torment yourself and him by staying away. You have only days to spend with him, before the festival is complete."

Angeal looked at the advisor, and he knew he was right. When this festival was over with, he'd be returning to Banora again, to wait out the long months until Genesis would accept him as a permanent lover—provided he didn't lose interest, by then. Angeal compressed his lips. Maybe it was a good idea to reinforce to the Pharaoh what he would be missing out on, if he turned him away. This was his chance to leave a lasting impression that would stay with Gen until he returned to his side.

* * *

When Genesis returned to his chambers, he was pleased to see that the servants had set out a bottle of imported wine, a pitcher of fresh water, and a selection of fruit on his dining table. He was _not_ so pleased to find the polished skull sitting in the center of the table. A succulent plant was growing from the neatly carved hole in the top of it. He recognized the plant as one of the flowering mini cacti that grew in the region. They had painted the skull and placed faceted, red gems in the eyesockets as requested...and Genesis had _completely_ forgotten about it, until now.

"Fools," he hissed, though he had nobody to blame but himself. The previous owner of this particular skull had been a blacksmith, who was found guilty of assaulting a boy child and leaving him for dead. His fate was obviously execution, and Genesis' mood was so black with angst over Angeal, frustration with the political situation and anger that someone would harm a child, he ordered the skull to be preserved, polished and decorated for his own personal satisfaction.

He heard a knock on his chamber doors and his eyes widened as he turned to look at them. A human curse found its way onto his lips, uttered with elegance most people couldn't muster. "Shit." A second one soon followed. "Fuck."

"Pharaoh?" came an uncertain, deep, masculine voice from the other side of the heavy doors. "I've come as requested."

"The timing couldn't be any worse," muttered Genesis under his breath. Sheba looked up from her curled up position on his bed, and she looked at him inquisitively for a moment before yawning and lowering her head again.

He considered simply leaving it there and daring Angeal to say anything about it. He needed no excuses. He was the Pharaoh of Menephera. If he wanted a human skull as his centerpiece, he had every right to have one.

But then, he thought of the expression on his Anjiru's face when he'd tried to offer such a skull to him, in recompense for the injuries done to him by the taskmaster. The Banoran would never understand, even if Genesis explained to him what the man had done to deserves such a fate. He'd made it clear that he didn't approve of the death penalty and he found it cowardly to execute people without giving them a fighting chance. Genesis sighed and picked the skull up.

"One moment," he called when Angeal knocked again.

He looked around for somewhere to hide the object. Were he not in a sate of mild panic, he would have probably hidden it in his trunk. Angeal would never open it without his permission. However, Genesis wasn't in a rational state of mind. He rolled the object under his bed hastily and he took a deep breath, before going to his chamber door and lifting the bars to unlock it. He opened the left door and he stared up at the taller seraph waiting for him. This was his first chance to see Angeal up close since his arrival. He'd trimmed his hair a bit in the back, but it still fell just to his shoulders in the fashion Genesis preferred on him. It seemed his Anjiru remembered what he liked, and he kept his appearance in line with that.

_~Goddess...how could he become even more handsome than he already was?~_

He knew it was a trick played on his mind and heart by time and distance, of course. The saying: "absence makes the heart grow fonder" sprung to mind as he stared up at him.

"Pharaoh," Angeal said respectfully, his voice softening with desire as his blue gaze feasted on him in return. He started to kneel before him out of habit, but he caught himself and gave him a dignified, respectful nod instead. "You wished to see me?"

_~Oh yes. I wished to see you...and ravish you, my friend. Now, if only I could recall where I put my mind. It seems to have abandoned me.~_

Genesis reached up and traced Angeal's squared, whiskered jaw with his fingertips. "You look well," he murmured, at a loss for anything else to say.

"So do you," answered Angeal.

That blue gaze had brightened with lust, smoldering in its intensity. Nobody had ever looked at Genesis quite like that before. Nobody made his body tingle with awareness this way, with only a look. Realizing that they were still standing in the thresh hold, Genesis stepped aside to give him room.

"Please, come in," he said courteously, somehow leveling out his tone to sound less like a whore waiting to be pounded.

Angeal stepped into the room, and he closed the door and barred it behind him. He turned to face Genesis again, and his features began to relax. "You're still wearing your mask," he observed softly.

Genesis had forgotten about the thing when he saw that blasted skull sitting on his table. He reached up and took it off. "I hardly notice it anymore," he said as he walked over to his bed to hang it on the wall beside it. That wasn't entirely true, though. Lately, he found the mask uncomfortable. He blamed it on Zack's constant complaining and Angeal's influence. Both of them had a way of making him feel like the thing wasn't necessary anymore, and a part of him longed to toss it aside and give his face the freedom to feel the open air against it, when out in public.

Angeal began to look around the room, occupying himself with taking note of the changes while they both searched their minds for things to say. "Are those new books on your shelves?"

Pleased that he noticed, Genesis nodded and turned to grant him a smile. "Yes. They arrived last week, from Wutai. The three on the left are about the local mythology, and the fourth and fifth ones are Wutain poetry and fairy tales, respectively."

Angeal looked at him over his shoulder, smiling. "I knew there had to be poetry in there, somewhere. You can read the language?"

Genesis raised a brow. "The books wouldn't be of much use to me if I couldn't." He softened his sarcasm with a crooked smile. "But yes, I couldn't resist at least one book of poems. You've come to know me well."

Angeal turned back to the book case to examine the volumes. "I'd like to think I have. Maybe you could read some of them to me, while I'm here."

Genesis found the request ridiculously endearing. He loved that Angeal was so interested in his passions, when most people found them boring. Why did the man have to be so damned..._perfect_ for him? As completely opposite as they were to each other, they simply fit...as Zack said on more than one occasion.

"I—" He began, but then something bumped against the back of his ankle, distracting him. He looked down and his kohl-lined eyes widened when he saw that it was his new skull-planter. Sheba had apparently lost interest in napping and found the object under the bed. The caracal was now playing with the skull, gently batting it with her paws to make it roll around on the stone floor.

Angeal turned, and Genesis quickly stepped in front of the object when it rolled to the side, concealing it from view.

"Is that a yes?" Angeal queried, smiling softly at him.

Genesis tried to covertly nudge the skull back under the bed. He nodded. "I'd be happy to read some of it to you, Anjiru. That is, if you're truly interested."

"I am," promised the big man.

He turned to look at the shelf again, and Genesis desperately pushed at the skull with his sandaled foot. Evidently thinking it was a game, Sheba made a playful swat at his ankle, and one of her claws got hooked on the laces of his sandal.

"Sheba, no," chastised Genesis, bracing himself with a hand on the bedpost as he tried to pull his foot free. "Bad cat!"

Angeal saw his predicament, and he chuckled softly as he crossed the room. "Here, allow me."

"Anjiru, you don't have to—" Genesis began, alarmed, but the big man knelt smoothly before he could even finish his sentence, and he caught hold of the redhead's calf with one hand to hold it steady, while gently easing the feline's hooked claw out of the laces with the other.

"There," said Angeal in satisfaction when the paw withdrew. Sheba stuck her head out and bumped it against his hand demandingly, making him chuckle. Angeal scratched the animal's head affectionately. "It's a good thing for me you recognize me, girl."

Angeal paused and frowned, and Genesis braced himself with a wince as the big man found the object Sheba had been playing with and scooped it up. He looked up at Genesis with a frown on his lips, drawing the skull out from under the bed.

"What's this?"

The Pharaoh sighed, kissing his lovemaking plans goodbye. "The beginning of an argument, it seems."

* * *

-To be continued


	14. Chapter 14

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 14

* * *

**_Author's note: This chapter has been censored to comply with FFnet's conservative policies. You can read the full, adult version at Ygallery and Archive of our own, both of which are linked under my profile. _**

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

"I'll not have you coming into _my_ kingdom, telling me how to rule." Genesis's expression was the definition of belligerence, as if Angeal had wronged him deeply by asking a simple question.

The big man straightened up with the skull in his hand, realizing that this situation would require some tact and careful thought. He'd come to apologize to Genesis, after all, and to explain to him that he understood the significance of his attempted gift, even if he couldn't morally accept it. Thinking back, however, he'd already apologized to him...or at least assured him that he appreciated the thought. The Pharaoh was in a defensive mood now, and despite his frustration to find yet another executed subject turned into a macabre planter, Angeal still wanted him.

It was an interesting conundrum for the big man. He wanted to be honest, but with Genesis, there was such a thing as being _too_ candid. How could he tell him how he felt, without encouraging that sort of behavior? He didn't want to give him any excuses to chop off more heads.

"Well?" Genesis raised an impatient brow. "Out with it, Angeal. I'm sure you have plenty to say about this one and the night isn't getting any younger."

Angeal sighed, and he carried the skull over to the table and set it down. Turning to look at Genesis, he chose to simply say what was in his heart. "I...understand what it meant, for you to try and give me the head of my enemy. Zack and I talked about it and he helped me gain some perspective. I know that I told you I understood life is valued differently here, but I feel like I was still too...harsh...when you tried to present it to me."

The pharaoh stared at him blankly, somehow managing to look gorgeous even when mystified. "You're...offering an apology?"

Angeal almost smiled, understanding his confusion after what he'd expected to deal with from him. "I am. In my ignorance of your reasoning, I was too abrupt. I should have talked more with you about it and given a more in-depth explanation of why I couldn't accept it. It's been bothering me to have that lingering between us, so I wanted to take the opportunity to clear the air."

"I see." Genesis frowned at the skull he'd placed on the table. "And what of that one? You seemed less than pleased to find it." He reached down to scratch Sheba on the head as she crawled out from beneath the bed and bumped against his leg demandingly.

Angeal frowned. "You know I can't approve of it, even if I have to respect your right to do it."

"That's right," agreed Genesis smugly. "You _do_ have to respect it."

His response annoyed Angeal. "What did this one do, fail to bow quickly and deeply enough? Look at you the wrong way? Or did your mask slip in front of him, allowing the poor bastard to catch a glimpse of your face?"

Genesis compressed his gold-tinted lips with equal annoyance. "He assaulted a child."

The admission effectively took the wind out of Angeal's sails. "When you say 'assaulted', do you mean..."

"Sexually," confirmed Genesis with a curt nod. "The boy was left for dead, brutalized and barely conscious. Fortunately for him, one of the farmers' dogs smelled him as they passed by the alley, and he was taken to the healers in time to save his life. The child will recover physically, but whether he'll ever be capable of having a normal life after such a thing is yet to be seen. The guard investigated the matter after the boy identified his assailant and they found some...disturbing things in his home, hidden beneath his floorboards."

"What kind of disturbing things?" questioned Angeal, though he wasn't sure he truly wanted to hear the answer.

"Bones," replied Genesis. "Old ones. And drawings. It seemed this man was quite the artist, in addition to being one of my blacksmiths. The boy was more fortunate than other children before him. Physicians were able to identify three of the remains with forensics, but the others were too far decayed. It seems this man was to blame for several missing children in the past."

Whatever umbrage Angeal felt over what he normally saw as a callous disregard for humanity, he couldn't hold onto. "I had no idea."

"I didn't intend to tell you," answered the Pharaoh with a sigh. His bright gaze held Angeal's, and his sculpted features were tense. "Understand this about me, Anjiru: I protect the innocents in my kingdom. I mete out harsh punishment to those who cross me, but I don't kill on a whim, as you suggest."

Angeal nodded solemnly, and he crossed the room to him, looking him up and down. The flickering light of the braziers highlighted his bronzed perfection, and it seemed like there were glittering particles stuck to his skin. There must have been some gold dust mixed with the essential oils they'd applied to his body, before the banquet. He looked the part of a god, and it almost felt sinful to want him this badly.

"I know," Angeal murmured at last, his expression softening. "Again, I owe you an apology. Had something like this happened in my village, we might have imprisoned the man for life, but it's more likely he would have been hung or shot for his crimes. I...have no right to judge."

Genesis parted his lips, his auburn brows furrowing. "It's impossible to carry on an argument with you. You keep apologizing."

"Only because I feel it's warranted," assured Angeal with a little smile. "I can admit when I'm in the wrong, but I'll dig in when I feel I'm in the right."

Genesis considered this, and he nodded in agreement. "So I've seen. Well, with that ugly business out of the way, shall we have a drink?"

Angeal nodded. "I'll pour them."

Sheba began to scratch at the doors, and she looked back at Gen with imploring, amber-green eyes that silently asked to be let out. Trusting her not to take a swipe at any of the remaining revelers lingering in his hall, he obliged her. He glanced at the skull on the table and he noticed the grimace Angeal tried to hide as he reached over it for the wine bottle. Genesis sighed and he approached to take the skull.

"I'll have them bury this somewhere," he informed the big man. "Will that please you?"

Angeal was pleasantly surprised by the offer, and he paused in the act of pouring into one of the goblets. "Yes. That would comfort me, despite what he did to earn his death."

"Then it's done. I'll take it to my guards outside the door and instruct them to give it a proper burial."

Angeal couldn't hide his smile. This small act of kindness gave him hope that he still had a future with this gorgeous creature, and he acted on rare impulse because of it. He closed the distance between them and he nuzzled Genesis' cheek affectionately. "Thank you."

The Pharaoh's cheekbones darkened with color, and he looked away as he picked up the polished skull. "Well, it doesn't match the decor in here."

Angeal pinched his lips together to refrain from chuckling as Genesis went back to the door and signaled for the guards.

* * *

"I have another confession to make," Angeal informed once they sat down on the couch to drink their wine.

"Oh?" Genesis relaxed against the lounge, resting his left ankle over his right knee. "And what might that be?"

"My parents aren't dead. I told you they were when you asked me for details about my background, shortly after we met. The rest was true about them being my foster parents, but they're both alive."

Genesis smirked around his goblet as he took a sip of his drink. "Yes, I know."

Angeal frowned at him. "You knew? How?"

The Pharaoh rolled his eyes. "I had my subjects look into it, of course. Anjiru, did you _really_ believe I wouldn't seek out details you might have chosen to leave out, after seeing how unusually strong you were? Don't insult my intelligence."

"But...you never said anything. I would have expected a confrontation from you, after finding out I lied that way."

"You didn't know me well enough then to be that open with me," answered the Pharaoh thoughtfully. "You wished to protect your parents. I can forgive that, and so I let it go."

Angeal lowered his gaze. "You keep surprising me."

"I watch over what's mine." Genesis placed a hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze, his mouth curving into a sultry half-smile. "You belong to me, after all."

Angeal lost all interest in the wine as he looked down at the hand resting intimately on his knee. The golden caps adorning the tips of Genesis' fingers were fashioned to resemble talon claws, chained to a bracelet around his wrist—or perhaps they were meant to be cat claws. It was difficult to say. All he knew was that the touch and the light dig of the claws into his knee turned him on, and he was now thankful for the cover of clothing that had made him feel so out of place, before.

"What happened to me being 'free' of you?" murmured the Banoran huskily. He set his drink down on the coffee table, worried he might get careless and spill it as his inhibitions fled.

Genesis shrugged. "You said that would never happen. Perhaps I'm holding you to that, my Anjiru."

It seemed Genesis was loosened up from the wine, as well. He'd worn off most of the golden paint on his lips as he drank, and they glistened with the wine. Angeal found them particularly tasty looking.

"I keep my vows," promised Angeal, staring into his eyes.

"Yes," agreed Genesis. He set his wine aside too. "I believe you."

The Pharaoh reached out to lay a hand over Angeal's chest, the golden claws lightly scratching the material of the shirt he wore. "You're wearing too many clothes. I prefer the garb of my people, on you. Such a magnificent form shouldn't be so hidden, in this climate."

Angeal glanced down at himself. "Strangely enough, I haven't felt comfortable dressed like this, since I arrived. I didn't have any of my Menephera clothing to wear, though. I didn't take any of it with me when I left."

"I still have your garments in my chest," confessed Genesis. He stood up and he motioned to the larger seraph. "Come. We can remedy your wardrobe issue right now."

Angeal was a bit flustered and endeared at the same time. To find out that Genesis held onto his skirts and loincloths after "banishing" him was like another ray of hope, to him. "You kept them?"

Genesis hesitated at the chest, and he glanced sidelong at him. "As I said; you are mine. I'll keep them until your year is up, and if you don't return to me, I'll be rid of them."

Angeal tried to stop himself from smiling, barely managing to control his lips. "I didn't know."

_Had_ he known his lover was practicing such sentiment, he might not have agonized over the situation so much after leaving this place. Genesis selected a familiar, embroidered men's skirt from the chest—one of royal blue with gold trimming, and he held it out expectantly to Angeal.

"You want me to put it on now?" guessed the Banoran.

Genesis nodded. "Yes. I want to see you in it again. This one was my favorite on you."

Suddenly feeling a little self-conscious but compelled by habit to obey, Angeal bent over and started unlacing his boots. Considering that he was hoping to bed the Pharaoh tonight, he didn't really see the point in getting undressed just to put more clothing on, but there wasn't much to the skirt anyway. The desert garb was designed to fit securely, but allow the skin to breathe and be easily removed. Genesis watched him with glittering eyes as he took his shoes and socks off, stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. The redhead's gaze caressed his bared chest once he was shirtless, and Angeal began to undo his pants.

"It pleases me that you still so readily comply with my requests," purred Genesis.

Angeal paused and looked at him. "I guess you trained me well."

The sensual mouth smiled. "And yet I know you would defy me the moment you found my demands unreasonable, or unjust."

Angeal nodded and resumed undressing. "Yes, I would." Realizing he was at the part where he'd be exposing himself completely, the big man turned his back to his companion. He'd been away just long enough to regain a sense of modesty that he'd _almost_ started to lose, while in captivity in Menephera.

Genesis chuckled. "And I see that shyness of yours remains, despite my efforts to smother it. Not that I mind the backside view of your body, of course."

Angeal felt his cheeks warm as he started to pull his pants down. He felt something in the left pocket and he remembered what he'd brought with him. "Well, if I had stayed here, I might be less modest. Returning to Banora and living under their values must have brought it back out in me."

"A pity," sighed Genesis.

Angeal felt his presence close in on him from behind as he withdrew the case from his pants, before pulling them down. Now clad in only his underwear, he paused as Genesis' fragrance reached his nose. The Pharaoh embraced him from behind and kissed his left shoulder, in a gesture that was surprisingly tender.

"Call me impatient," murmured Genesis, "but I'll assist with the last part."

Angeal didn't stop him as he hooked his fingers into the elastic of his underwear and began to pull it down.

"Now," said Genesis in a seductive, pleased tone, "let's get you more appropriately dressed. Turn around to face me, Anjiru."

Angeal obeyed, forgetting his embarrassment as his desire for Genesis spiked again. He didn't even mind the obvious state of arousal he was growing into—not even when Genesis looked down at his exposed package and smirked approvingly. Angeal tensed a little, involuntarily, when the Pharaoh boldly reached out to curl his fingers around his stiffening sex.

"Just as impressive as I recall," whispered Genesis. He looked into Angeal's eyes and his gaze softened a bit. "You seem worried."

"It's the claws," confessed Angeal. He hardened further, even though it made him nervous to be handled while Genesis wore those sharp finger caps.

Genesis looked down at the hand he was fondling Angeal with, and he smirked again. "Ah, I see. How rude of me." He released his erection and he started to put the skirt on him. "I'll be sure to remove them, before I get too familiar with your precious jewels again. Part your legs."

Angeal obeyed and Genesis gently shifted Angeal's package to adjust it as he finished putting the skirt on him, but he did so with such care that Angeal hardly had time to flinch before it was done. The Pharaoh's gaze went to the case in Angeal's hand as he straightened up, and he nodded at it.

"What is that?"

Angeal looked down at it, and his uncertainty came flooding back. "It's...nothing. It was in my pants and I didn't want it to get jostled around."

"If it's 'nothing', you wouldn't care so much," reasoned Genesis. He tilted his head, his gaze searching on him. "Are we going to continue keeping secrets, Anjiru? I thought we were surpassing that, tonight."

Angeal took a deep breath. "It's my collar," he said at last, opening the case to show him. "The one you had made for me."

Genesis stared at the silver and lapis, segmented collar lying in the case. "How did you get this? I told them to throw it out."

"It was sent to me," answered Angeal.

"By whom?"

He just looked at him, and Genesis rolled his eyes as he guessed. "Asim, of _course_. That busybody matchmaker." He sighed and he looked at Angeal again with a faintly guarded expression. "I suppose you're returning it to me, for whatever reason."

Angeal shook his head. "No. I want you to put it on me."

Genesis blinked slowly. "Put it on you," he repeated.

"Yes. You never should have removed it." It took a lot of guts for Angeal to say those words aloud, even though he'd told Genesis that he could never be free of him. What sort of warrior willingly enslaved himself to another?

The Pharaoh seemed to hold that very question in his own thoughts, as he stared back at him. "Why, Anjiru? Why do you want to wear this mark of slavery? You are a seraph, and you're free."

"I don't consider myself a slave," answered the big man, trying to explain how he felt. "But I _do_ consider myself yours, Genesis. I'd like to wear this collar again as a reminder of that, and as a promise to you."

"You could have put it on yourself," reasoned Genesis curiously.

"Yes, but it wouldn't be the same," insisted Angeal. "I want _you_ to do it...the way you did when it was first made."

"You wish me to magically _bind_ it to you?" Genesis' brow furrowed. "Why? I don't understand. If I do that, you can't remove it without my aid or the help of someone else strong with magic."

"I know. That's why I want you to do it. When I leave here to return to Banora again, I want to carry part of you with me."

Genesis looked intrigued. "And what if I'm not willing to release you from the enchantment, if you decide not to come back to me in a year?"

"I'll just have to trust you." Angeal smirked.

"Interesting. So this is an exercise in trust, is it?"

"Among other things." Angeal nodded.

Genesis ran his claws lightly over the expanse of Angeal's chest, before tracing the lines of his throat and clavicle. He reached for the collar with his other hand and he took it out of the case. "I must admit that it gives me satisfaction to know you'll return to your home with a mark of my claim on you. Very well, Anjiru."

* * *

There was something unbelievably sensual about securing the collar around Angeal's throat, once again. Genesis looked up at him as he murmured the arcane phrase that would bind the adornment and make it nigh unbreakable. Angeal's wing came out as the spell finished and the metal briefly glowed red, and Genesis' did the same. They were both breathing heavily and all the Pharaoh could think of was how much he wanted to have that hard, strong body contradicting the terms of their relationship again.

"There," he said when the glow faded.

He stepped back and he looked Angeal up and down with approval, taking in the strong, bare thighs, the broad chest and the toned arms. The colors of the skirt he'd chosen for him complimented the collar, even though the garment was lined with gold rather than silver. Other than the fact that his dark hair wasn't as long in the back as it had been when he left, Angeal appeared just as he remembered.

"Now you look like my Anjiru."

The bigger seraph said nothing; he only stared into his eyes. His great, ivory wing stretched out a little, before tucking back in close to his side. Remembering his promise about the finger jewelry, Genesis removed the claws and set them aside on the coffee table. He approached his prize and he ran his hands possessively over bulging biceps, tight pecs and defined abs. He met Angeal's gaze again, and he pressed his stiffened groin against his through their garments.

"We have three days," murmured Genesis. "How would you like to spend the nights while here?"

Angeal put his arms around him. "With you," he answered, and then he started to kiss him in that way of his that silently promised his heart, while demanding Genesis' at the same time.

Genesis kissed him back with enthusiasm, caressing his invading tongue while unconsciously curving his wing around to brush the feathers against Angeal's. He touched the collar around the big man's throat with his fingertips, feeling the smooth surface of the metal and the polished stones. He let his hand drop to his chest and the other one soon joined it to tweak Angeal's nipples. The scant covering of their garments provided a flimsy obstacle between them, and if anything, the material provided additional friction as their bodies rubbed against each other.

Genesis wasn't sure of how it happened, but he found himself up against the wall and he nearly knocked a papayas tapestry off of it with his wing. Angeal's mouth moved insistently against his, and he caught hold of Genesis' wrists and pushed them up over his head, pinning them there firmly. The redhead's wing shivered with wanton lust in response, and he moaned into the plundering kiss. Angeal held his wrists in place with one hand, and he began to caress his body with the other.

"I've missed you," gasped the Banoran throatily between kisses. He chafed Genesis' nipples, before sliding his hand over his ribcage and down. "I dream of you, all the time."

In a similar state of lust and wine-softened sentiment, Genesis confessed similar feelings. "You haunt me, Anjiru. I'll never be free of you, either."

The admission seemed to stoke the fires even more for Angeal. There was a rending sound as he tore Genesis' skirt off, not bothering with the effort of unfastening it properly to remove it. If he weren't on fire with need himself, Genesis might have protested such crude treatment of his clothes, but when he felt the brush of Angeal's thigh against his naked groin, he forgot about it. He nearly whimpered with frustration when Angeal stroked his belly and hips, instead of fondling his erection.

"How much do you trust me?" Angeal murmured, his lips warm, firm and seductive against his skin.

Genesis looked away. Even the wine and his powerful need for the other seraph couldn't blow away years of strict training. Opening up oneself too much to others was very dangerous. "Why ask such a thing?"

Angeal paused in his kisses, and he released Genesis' wrists. He used that hand to caress his face, and he stared into his eyes. "You got to touch me at your leisure, before I left. I want the same opportunity with you, tonight."

Genesis reached down to cup the prominent bulge between the bigger man's legs and he fondled him. "So you want a bit of turnabout, do you? What do I get in return for my cooperation?"

"Pleasure," answered the bigger man in a tight voice. He reached down to still Genesis' hand. "And you know I'll stop if at any time you ask me to."

Genesis considered being stubborn and resuming his fondling, but it really was a small request and if there was one thing he loved, it was the feel of those hands on him. For all their strength and work-roughened texture, they knew his body like no other, and they had the power to invoke sensations that left him feeling like he'd passed into paradise.

He lowered his gaze and spoke softly, feeling uncommonly bashful. "I suppose I'm beholden to you. I'll grant your request."

Angeal's hand slid under his chin to urge his head back up, and he kissed him on the mouth softly before speaking again. "I don't want you to agree to it out of a feeling of obligation. That breeds resentment, and I don't want that."

Genesis grew frustrated. He was painfully aroused, exposed and backed up against a wall. Now his companion was cornering him with words, as well. "What do you want me to say? You have my consent. You should know by now that I never do things I don't want to do."

A look of comprehension crossed the handsome face. "Then I'll take your consent and be satisfied with that."

* * *

Angeal used up every ounce of willpower available to him, that night. To his surprise, Genesis cooperated with him in full. He lay submissively on his back in the beginning, allowing Angeal to caress, stroke and fondle his body from head to toe. Angeal didn't try to stop him from touching him back, except for when his attentions went below the waist. He gently caught the Pharaoh's wrist and shook his head, looking down at him seriously before giving the tent in his skirt a pointed glance.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing you told me, the last time we were together. Not yet."

Genesis smirked at him and sighed, relaxing in his grip. "Very well. I presume you'll make it worth it to me."

Angeal kissed him, before promising: "I'll do my best."

* * *

"Sir, the cannon is ready for its first test."

Reeve looked up from the instrument panel, his brown eyes settling on the younger man who'd made the announcement. "Good, Phillips. What's the status on our target sub?"

"It's moving out at a slow but steady pace. It looks like you were right about patching that engine valve."

"Let's just hope she holds together long enough to make it to the designated range," sighed Reeve. He flipped a few switches and got out of his chair. "Shall we?"

The engineering assistant nodded his dark blond head. "Ready when you are, Commissioner."

Reeve walked with him to the winding metal stairs leading up to a different part of the dome. They crossed the catwalk looping around the dome interior overhead, their booted footsteps rattling the wire mesh. They came to a ladder, and the assistant waited for the senior engineer to climb up first, before following him. They passed through an open, reinforced metal door with a locking wheel on it, emerging in a smaller control room overlooking the harbor and the ocean. There were windows on all sides, affording a perfect view of the horizon.

Reeve saw Vincent Valentine standing at the windows, looking out at the ocean silently. He had his shades on, naturally, and he wore a striking outfit consisting of black pants, knee-high boots, a white shirt with billowing sleeves and a black vest. His raven hair was bound into a ponytail, and he wore his round lens, red-tinted shades over his eyes.

Reeve came up beside him as the crew worked the equipment and announced progress out loud. "I half expected you to watch from your quarters," he murmured, glancing at the seraph sidelong. "No wonder these fellows are working so efficiently."

"This observation deck offers a better view," answered Vincent. "I said I would come, didn't I?" His gloved hands were clasped before his hips, and his feet were slightly parted. He looked relaxed and attentive at the same time.

"So you did." Reeve took a pair of binoculars offered to him by one of his crew, tearing his eyes off the cold, perfect beauty of his seraphim companion to look through them. He could see the half-submerged submarine on the horizon, steadily moving away from Junon. A quick glance at the tracking monitor showed him that the sea craft would reach its designated spot in two minutes or less.

"Just hold together long enough to get there," he muttered to the submarine. It was frankly a miracle they managed to get the defective thing to run long enough to make the trip out of the harbor. It had so many flaws that they might as well have junked it for parts to contribute to the other ones. There was the additional worry that the auto-pilot system might fail, and the craft could keep going rather than stop and stay afloat for the shot.

"Less than one minute to destination, Director," announced a woman at one of the switchboards. "Shall we open the dome and raise the cannon?"

Reeve nodded, putting his binoculars down for a moment. "Please do."

"You're certain the cannon is ready for this test?" Vincent didn't move or turn as he murmured the question.

Reeve hesitated briefly. "For this test? Certainly. For use as an actual weapon against others? Probably not. We need to see how it handles here and carefully monitor the energy flow and output, before we make further adjustments."

Vincent nodded, not one to rush things when there was no impending reason to. So long as their operation remained cloaked, there was no immediate rush. In order to maintain his cover, Reeve had been forced to prioritize the president's sub fleet over his work on the cannon. Rufus had been quite pleased to hear that the fleet was completed, and Reeve sent _most_ of them out to the minor port near Midgar. He kept a few with only the basics at Junon, for further testing purposes. He didn't want to waste the money and materials it took to make them on a whim, though. He intended to spare as many as possible, but it all hinged on how this first test went.

The floor vibrated as the dome opened, and the long shadow of the massive cannon fell over the observation deck as it extended. Reeve grimaced subtly in response to the grinding sound, though he knew his people kept everything oiled up as much as possible. There was no help for the racket, however. Until technology advanced to a stage where such things could be made to run smoother, they would have to take what they had and build on it.

"The Junon Cannon is at peak power," announced Wrench from his station. He looked up from his switchboard at his boss. "Mako levels are holding steady, Sir. We should have her positioned to target soon."

"Test sub one has reached its designated range," said the woman monitoring the submarine's status. "She's staying afloat, for now. The auto-pilot is functioning as intended."

Reeve nodded and he noticed that Vincent was looking at him sidelong. "Everything's going as planned, so far. Fire the cannon when ready."

They waited through more grinding as the weapon pivoted and extended to its full length, and Reeve remembered to put on his own shaded goggles when he saw his crew doing it. "Moment of truth," he muttered as he fitted the goggles over his eyes and brought the binoculars up again.

"3…2…1…_fire!_"

Reeve held his breath as the cannon ejected a white-hot beam of energy over the horizon. The floor shook again—so violently that he impulsively grabbed hold of Vincent's arm to steady himself. A small corner of his mind was amused and a little endeared when the dark seraph's arm went around his waist, as if Valentine was equally afflicted with instinct and couldn't help but protect him.

The bolt of energy shot over the water, leaving a trail of sea foam in its wake as its sheer speed and energy disturbed the liquid. Reeve felt a moment of illogical pity for the small, broken marine vessel waiting for its doom in that field of blue, but his excitement for the moment soon overshadowed it. The energy beam arched down as it closed in on its target, and it struck the submarine with a fantastic explosion. A mushroom cloud formed over the water where it hit, and the water rippled violently away from the disturbance. Reeve thought he detected bits of burning shrapnel flying into the air, before they evaporated into ash under the intense, Mako-infused heat.

The sea was on fire.

Everything was utterly silent in the observation deck as they all watched the devastation caused by that one shot. Wrench regained his senses and checked the readings. "Director, it appears to have been a direct hit. I doubt there's anything left of the target at all."

Reeve couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot, staring at the artificial sunset created by the orange flame and the strange cloud. Beside him, Vincent nodded in satisfaction.

"I'm pleased."

Reeve Tuesti couldn't say the same. The more he viewed the results of his handiwork, the more he felt the tingle of doom creeping up his spine, like spiders seeking out a convenient place to weave their nests.

"Good mother Gaia," he whispered, "What have I created?"

* * *

-To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 15

* * *

Summary: Gaia is divided into five distinct, ruling kingdoms. Two are under human control, and the other three are ruled by Seraphim. Treated as gods by their followers, the Seraphim rank highest in power and military might, and their power base continues to expand into the human kingdoms. The Pharaoh of the West finds himself drawn to one of his slaves, brought to him from the southern islands of Mideel.

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

"You seem pretty cavalier about the severity of that blast."

Vincent looked up from his paperwork to regard his lover. "How so? The outcome was better than I had hoped. I assure you, I'm pleased."

"That isn't what I meant." The engineer sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. "The goddamned _sea_ was on fire, Vincent. I think we need to take a step back and think about this a little more. Adjustments can be made to cut down on the size of the blast radius, and—"

"Why would we want to do that?" Vincent put aside his pen and stood up, watching Reeve suspiciously. "The purpose in designing the weapon was to create a power so great that neither ShinRa nor the Seraphim could compete with it. You've delivered on that account. You should be as pleased as I am."

Reeve looked out the window at the lingering, un-natural cloud in the distance. The angle didn't provide as good a view from Vincent's office as the observation deck, but he could still see that ominous mushroom shape in the sky over the sea.

"It's just a bit more than I intended to put out," he sighed. "We aren't even sure what kind of lingering effects that blast could have on the area surrounding it."

"But you've sent your people to get readings," offered Vincent calmly. "You should have the information you require before nightfall."

"I'm sure the readings are going to be devastating." Reeve mulled it over, uncomfortable with Vincent's attitude. "Let's just take a moment to think about the ramifications of actually _using_ this weapon on populated areas, Vincent."

"We've already discussed that."

"Yes, but have we really _thought_ about it? Look at that thing!" He gestured at the window.

Vincent didn't even turn. "I have. I stood beside you and watched it form. You've done some excellent work, Tuesti."

"Okay, so I've done excellent work. Now imagine firing that thing at a city full of civilians. Women, children, and elderly. Do we want that kind of blood on our hands?"

"I have no intention of employing a scenario of that nature," reminded Vincent, "Unless I'm forced to. Remember why you built this cannon, my friend."

Yes, Reeve remembered the purpose behind the design of the cannon…all too well. Witnessing the severity of destruction it was capable of was a poignant reminder of the original intent. "I'm just not sure I can morally agree with using a weapon of mass destruction to deter hostilities; not after seeing what it can do."

"It's too late to change your mind," warned Vincent. He took his shades off and his eyes glowed crimson and amber. "I need you behind me on this, Reeve. We can't allow room for doubt. The moment we begin this campaign, we're going to face opposition from all sides. I believe the Seraphim can be reasoned with, but you know how stubborn your president can be. His cabinet is filled with some of the most bloodthirsty humans I've ever seen."

"Bloodthirsty?" Reeve looked out the window again. "Make that accusation again when you aren't applauding me for setting the ocean on fire."

Vincent sighed and he circled around the desk to stand before the engineer. He laid his hands on Reeve's tense shoulder, studying his troubled face with unreadable eyes. "I'm applauding you for making good on your promise to me. You're in shock, I can see. The results are better than either of us dreamed."

"Define 'better'. What I witnessed when we fired on that sub was a lot bigger than I set out for."

"Yes, you surpassed yourself," agreed Vincent with a nod, his marble features softening the slightest bit. "Yet now you punish yourself, as though we turned that weapon on innocent people, already. You know my vision, and you agreed to follow it. Don't back out now."

Reeve wavered. It was hard to hold onto his misgivings, when presented with such confidence and persistence. It didn't help that this creature held his heart in the palm of his hand, either. "Do you _swear_ to me that this weapon won't be used unless absolutely necessary, Vincent?"

"I do."

"Swear it on Lucrecia."

Vincent lowered his gaze briefly, before nodding. "I swear it on my lost mate and child. No human will taste the fire of this weapon unless my hand is forced." He met Reeve's eyes again, a flicker of hot emotion manifesting in his gaze. "Does this satisfy you?"

"Yes," agreed the engineer, though in his heart, he still had his doubts. It was largely because of ShinRa that he'd lost his family. If anyone had a right to vengeance, it was Vincent. The scientists from ShinRa Inc had performed experiments on her, supposedly in the interest of helping her carry her pregnancy to term. Her mental state decayed and she eventually killed herself.

"Vincent…was your child ever born?" He grimaced inwardly even as he asked the question.

The seraph looked away. "Stillborn. A boy."

"I…see. Vincent, I'm so sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have asked, but we rarely touch on it and I…wondered."

"You meant no harm. He's lost to me, as is his mother. Perhaps he's better off, that way."

Reeve got the nagging feeling that Vincent wasn't being entirely truthful with him, but he knew when to keep his thoughts to himself. There were limits to how far he could push Vincent, and his uncertainty about the cannon threatened to put a rift between them, as it was.

* * *

"What is a 'Zolom'?"

Genesis stirred at the sleepy question. "Hmm?" He opened bleary eyes and lifted his head off Angeal's broad chest. It was early morning, and the big man was stroking his hair absently as he looked at the bookshelf across the room.

"One of the books there," answered Angeal. "'_The Midgar Zolom.' _What's that?"

"Oh." Genesis covered his mouth on a yawn. "A snake. A very, very large snake." He reached down and cupped Angeal's crotch with a mischievous smirk. "You could relate to it, I think."

Angeal grinned, even as he blushed a little at the compliment. "That's a bit of an overstatement. How big are we talking?"

"Towering," sighed the Pharaoh. He sat up and stretched leisurely, his back arching like a cat's as he reached over his head at the empty air. "The largest I've seen was as tall as the guardian statues lining the entrance to the Temple of Minerva."

Angeal whistled softly, his eyes admiring the toned grace of Genesis' body. "That's a big snake."

"They're native to the marshland that stretches between Midgar and the grasslands to the southeast of it. The beasts sense the footsteps of travelers and it comes up out of the ground to strike, if they catch up with them. A lot of foolish mortals have lost their lives, traversing that ground."

"And these snakes stay in the marshlands?"

Genesis stretched out on top of him and he kissed him leisurely. "Mmm-hmm. Save for the ones Sephiroth keeps as guardians, of course."

Angeal blinked at him, and he impulsively caressed his back. "I'd ask how he manages to catch them, but he's the Serpent King."

Genesis nodded. "He can hypnotize the scaly creatures and get them to do his bidding. He gets them when they're young and he trains them to guard the land around his Temple—the entrance to his domain. Generally, they spend most of their time hibernating unless they need feeding."

Angeal imagined walking right on top of enormous, slumbering serpents without realizing it and he shuddered involuntarily. "That would be a nasty surprise, for anyone poking around where they shouldn't be."

"I imagine it would," agreed Genesis. He started kissing Angeal's chest, and his tongue flicked against the left nipple. "The last thing they'd see is the open, fanged maw. Ending up as a snake's meal can't be a pleasant way to die."

It felt somehow wrong to get aroused while listening to such a description, but Angeal's cock was slowly rising to attention under Genesis' teasing actions. It was just further proof of what a sensual creature the Pharaoh was, to provoke such a reaction in him whilst talking about something so unpleasant.

"Can we change the subject?" Angeal stroked his hair and urged him to scoot up, so that he could kiss him. "My curiosity is satisfied."

Genesis resisted, grinning as his lips hovered inches from Angeal's…just out of reach. "What shall we discuss, then? Breakfast? It seems they brought it earlier, while we were sleeping."

"I was thinking we could talk about satisfying other appetites," answered the brunet huskily, "or skip the talking, altogether."

"Ah, but we need nourishment." Genesis licked his whiskered chin, before getting off of him and climbing out of the bed. "Come. Even a body like _yours_ needs to replenish, Angeal. We'll bathe afterwards, and then I need to get started on my duties."

Angeal's mouth dropped a little. "B-but…"

Genesis paused on his way to the table, looking over his shoulder at him with a smirk. "If you're good, I may allow you a 'quickie', before we leave. Night is our time, Angeal. The days, I'm afraid, must be for court matters. Even during a festival, I have my obligations."

Angeal sighed, his blue gaze caressing that shamelessly nude body. "I'm learning new lessons in patience each day."

Genesis chuckled.

* * *

Sephiroth noticed the curious, sidelong looks that Genesis' powerful lover kept giving him as the celebrations went on, and he murmured in Lazard's ear. "Am I imagining it, or does the Banoran seem to want to ask me something?"

Used to being his king's "voice" when it came to communicating with mortals, Lazard glanced at Angeal. "He does appear to be on the curious side…which isn't like him, from what I understand of his nature. Do you want me to say something?"

Sephiroth watched the white-winged seraph with a certain amount of curiosity, himself. Unlike he and Genesis, Angeal never masked his features in public—but then, he'd become known to the people of Menephera before his true nature was discovered. It made a certain kind of sense that he felt uncomfortable hiding his features from them. Angeal stood with some of Genesis' royal guard, talking to them as he drank and ate from trays passed along. Genesis was at the head of the banquet table again, quietly discussing matters of the state with Asim and his other advisors. His eyes occasionally met Angeal's across the distance, and something warm passed between the two of them. It was then that Sephiroth noticed the collar around the former slave's throat, and he raised a silvery brow with intrigue.

"How interesting."

Lazard sipped his wine and gave him a questioning look. He was beginning to perspire in the early day heat, and the air was dry and still. "What's interesting, my king?"

Sephiroth gave a nod in Angeal's direction. "He wears the slave collar Genesis removed when he let him go, in addition to Menephera garb."

Lazard looked at it, and he made a softly intrigued noise. "Then has the Pharaoh taken him back? You may need to pay the Wolf Lord his coin, after all."

"Don't start counting gil yet," muttered Sephiroth, refusing to admit defeat. "Genesis is more stubborn than that. I haven't lost the wager, yet."

Lazard took an uncomfortable breath and he unbuttoned his shirt to let his skin get a bit more air. Given that everyone around him save for Angeal and Zack was dressed in little more than loincloths, there was no harm in showing a little skin, himself. At least they were inside, and not out in the sun.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Lazard asked again.

Sephiroth eyed him thoughtfully, taking in the beads of sweat and the flush in his cheeks. "No. You should enjoy the pool. Go and cool off."

Lazard looked longingly at the long, rectangular pools in the center of the reception hall. A few citizens were already enjoying a soak. "Don't tempt me," he said dryly.

In a rare moment of public affection, Sephiroth nuzzled his ear. "Go. You're overheating. Drink some water and get some relief from this heat. The day is still young and it will only get hotter as noon approaches. Perhaps I'll join you shortly."

"Then I'll go and change." Lazard rested a hand intimately on his knee for a moment, before getting up from the pillows.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. "Or, you could just disrobe and join them. Nobody here will mind, Lazard."

"If I'm ever going to strip naked in front of people," insisted the blond, "it will be in your kingdom, first. I don't know these people well enough."

"Human modesty," muttered the Serpent King, smirking after his advisor as Lazard left the hall. He noticed Zackary coming his way and he nodded at him as he took a seat. "You made it outside your chambers before noon. I'm almost impressed, Zackary."

The brunet shrugged. "Hey, I like my Z's. Cloud kept poking me with his elbow though, and Aerith was talking in her sleep."

"So you have one noisy pet and one abusive one," reasoned Sephiroth. "This is where your greed gets you."

Zack reached out for a tray as the serving girl came by with it, and he winked at her and thanked her as he piled some food from it onto the plate he held. "Pick on me all you want. I've never been happier. Oh, and they're not my 'pets'."

Sephiroth hid his amusement. Zack really hated it when he called humans 'pets'…especially the ones he adored. "I presume you've come to join me for a reason. You usually prefer to mingle with the pets."

Zack had a sausage to his lips and he glared at Sephiroth as he bit down on it. "I tole you," he muttered around his food, "stoff calling vem vat!"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't understand any of that around the half-chewed beast in your mouth."

Zack grunted and washed his food down with the cup of juice he had in his other hand. "You know what I said."

As fun as it was to push Zack's buttons, Sephiroth could guess what he was there for. "The answer is still 'no', Zackary."

The younger seraph's dark brows drew down in frustration. "Why? I'm doing everything you asked! Security's been tightened up around my borders and there hasn't been any sign of hostility. I think if they're going to hit any of us, they'll try for you or Genesis, first."

"Why would they do such a foolish thing?" Sephiroth asked, honestly puzzled. "That would be like hunting for their own demise."

"Maybe." Zack picked up a handful of almonds and tossed them into his mouth. "But maybe not. Think about it. When you're playing a game of chess, the pawns aren't the target. You want to take out the king."

"You believe yourself a pawn?"

Zack swallowed his food and shrugged again. "Compared to you guys, sure. At least, I know that's how everyone sees me. Gongaga isn't much of a threat to them. They know I get along with Tseng and I like people. I think if ShinRa plans to try and negotiate with any of us, they'll come to me first."

"And have they?" Sephiroth frowned at him. "Approached you with negotiations, that is."

"No, not yet." Zack lifted a cup of beer from one of the drink trays as it passed by. "Like I said, there hasn't been a peep. You're the one stirring up all the shit in their territory though. I'm pretty confident they'll try to come after you."

"At their own peril."

Zack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, at their own peril. So anyhow, I've made a lot of changes. Maybe it's not enough yet, but don't you think I could have her by the end of the year, if I keep going?"

"Perhaps." It was all Sephiroth was prepared to give him, wary as he was of something happening to what he believed could very well be the last Cetra alive. "We must put her safety first, Zackary."

"I hear you," agreed Zack, "but I want a promise."

Sephiroth took a slow breath, asking Jenova for patience. "Exactly what sort of 'promise' do you expect of me?"

"Just a promise that if I meet all your requirements by the end of the year, you'll let Aerith come home with me. That's not such a big deal, is it?"

Sephiroth studied him quietly. The hint of desperation behind that blue-violet gaze made him feel a little pity for him. It was one of Zack's gifts, to endear himself so effortlessly to those around him. Not even Sephiroth was immune to his charm, unfortunately. He was the troublesome 'little brother', and he and Genesis would ultimately both lay down their lives to protect him, if it came to it.

"Very well," sighed Sephiroth. "If you meet all requirements by the end of the year, the water maiden is yours, with my blessing. Now, will you stop pestering me?"

Zack perked up like a dog with a bone. "Thanks, Seph! That's all I wanted. I'll leave you to your brooding and go hang out with Angeal for a while."

Sephiroth nearly asked him to see if he could get Angeal to tell him why he seemed so curious about him all the sudden, but he immediately decided against the thought. Subtlety wasn't Zack's strong point, and he'd probably just blurt it out without any tact or thought. Perhaps it was time for him to start learning more about Angeal Hewley—especially considering he was a seraph and could very well become Genesis' consort, one day.

* * *

Sephiroth's campaign was moving along steadily, according to what he'd told him. Reports from the east claimed there were more human armies massing, but the Serpent King didn't seem concerned in the least, so neither was Genesis. He had to force himself to concentrate on the conversation around him, distracted by the presence of a certain gorgeous specimen of male on the other side of the room. Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged Angeal to wear Menephera garb again. At least in the more concealing clothing of his homelands, he wouldn't be presenting all that muscular, tanned flesh to view. It was honestly the first time Genesis ever found himself distracted by the skimpiness of a loincloth.

"Pharaoh, what do you think of my idea?"

Genesis mind was in an entirely different place, and he completely forgot the discussion was meant to be about agriculture. Something about irrigation in the western settlements? He couldn't recall. Angeal tilted his head back a bit as he drank from a goblet, and Genesis stared at the way his throat worked. The gems on his collar glinted in the torchlight and it was mesmerizing.

"I think it's a good idea," he said absently. What he really wanted to be doing right now was running his tongue over that throat.

The advisors looked at each other, and Asim spoke up softly. "Then you agree to the irrigation process, even though there is a risk?"

"Water is good," answered Genesis.

Having never heard their Pharaoh speak so witlessly before, the advisors followed his gaze and discovered what had so enraptured him. Asim cleared his throat. "My king, Just to be certain you understand; that area has been known to have underground caverns. If we dig too deeply, the ground could open up and swallow workers."

Genesis shook himself out of it, his eyes meeting Asim's. He was frankly mortified that his mind had drifted so completely, just at the sight of Angeal drinking. His sense of focus was usually impeccable, second only to Sephiroth's. "If the risk has been assessed and deemed worth it, then let them go ahead with the operation. You have my blessing."

Asim bowed his head respectfully, as did the others. "You have our humble thanks, Pharaoh. I'll see to it that work begins immediately."

Kasmut approached then, hurrying into the hall from the huge, open doorway leading outside. Her sandaled feet smacked against the stone floor as she jogged past the revelers to the head of the table, nimbly hopping over reclining bodies on the way. Genesis shushed his advisors as they started to discuss something else with him, and he frowned up at her as she closed the distance.

"My Pharaoh," she said breathlessly, kneeling before him, "I have news from the East. Forgive me for interrupting your duties, but it is important."

Genesis nodded and motioned her to come closer. "Speak low, Kasmut. I don't want matters of leadership announced to commoners."

She nodded and she stepped up on the dais, leaning over to whisper into his ear. Genesis' gaze settled on Angeal as she told him her news, intense behind the mask. His mouth curved into a displeased frown, and he sighed.

* * *

Angeal didn't know quite how to act when Sephiroth approached him. He started to bow, but then he remembered his newfound status and he gave him a respectful nod, instead. "Serpent King."

"Angeal," answered Sephiroth. "Will you walk with me?" He cast a meaningful glance around, his emerald gaze suggesting he didn't think what he wanted to discuss was fit for the ears of others.

Angeal glanced at Zack, and the Wolf Lord shrugged and nodded encouragingly. "Of course," he agreed. He might be one of them now, but he was still "new" and he felt that Sephiroth outranked him. He fell into step with him and they passed by Lazard on their way out. The blond had just emerged from the corridor leading to the guest quarters, and he was dressed in a pair of blue swimming trunks. Angeal didn't know why, but he found it comforting that someone besides himself still employed some modesty, in this place. Never mind that he was dressed in less than Lazard, right now.

"How are you adjusting?" Sephiroth asked politely as he led Angeal not outside, but down the corridors away from the main hall.

"Not bad," answered the brunet. "I think I've got flying worked out, though I'm sure it will take time for me to be as deft in the air as you and the others."

"All things come with practice and patience," agreed Sephiroth. "Tell me, is there something you've been meaning to ask me?"

Angeal felt a little uncomfortable as those serpentine eyes held his. Much like Genesis, Sephiroth had the mannerisms of a god. The inhuman gaze only made him appear more so. "I didn't realize I was being obvious."

"Perhaps not to others." Sephiroth shrugged fluidly. They passed a couple of palace servants, who immediately went to their knees in homage. Once they turned down another hallway and were out of earshot again, Sephiroth went on. "I couldn't help but notice the covert looks, however. We really don't know much about each other, do we?"

"Only what I've been told," agreed Angeal.

"And what have you been told?" Sephiroth smirked subtly. "I should warn you not to believe everything you hear—especially from mortals. They tend to exaggerate, at times."

"I know," answered the Banoran. "I lived as one, my entire life. As for what I've heard, most of it comes from Zack—"

Sephiroth snorted.

"And I guess he exaggerates a little, too." Angeal grinned a bit at the thought of Zack's irrepressible nature.

"At times," agreed Sephiroth. "Zackary's problem is that he doesn't know how to keep his thoughts to himself. He tends to tell you exactly what he thinks, without embellishing it for propriety's sake."

"Some would say that isn't a bad thing," reasoned Angeal, "but I can see how that would be an undesirable quality, in a leader."

Sephiroth nodded in agreement. He thought he could come to like Angeal. "You have a good head for leadership, I think. Genesis tells me you've refused to take over Banora as liege lord."

"They don't need a king," he answered. "They need a protector."

Seeing that Genesis hadn't exaggerated this man's honorable nature, Sephiroth smirked. "I'm sure that burns him up."

Angeal lowered his gaze, smiling a little. "He doesn't understand my way of thinking."

"And you don't understand his."

The big man shook his head. "Not all the time, no. It's…foreign."

Sephiroth stopped and stared at him. "It will make more sense in time, as you learn what it's like to be a leader. You may not name yourself their king, but as you say; you're their protector. It falls onto _you_ to defend your lands and keep your people safe, Angeal. We'll aid you with that when possible, but ultimately, Banora is your responsibility."

"I…appreciate that." Angeal sadly couldn't deny the truth of what he'd said. Already, the mayor deferred to him when decisions had to be made, and it was much the same with neighboring Mideel. They seemed pleased to leave the big decisions to him, regardless of his stating that he had no intention of "ruling" the islands.

"Now, why don't you ask me whatever it is that's been on your mind, this morning?"

Angeal looked at the mysterious Serpent King. "Actually, I was wondering if you ever knew your parents. I didn't discuss it at length, but Zack told me that Genesis was the only one of the three of you to grow up knowing his natural parents. Is that true?"

Sephiroth nodded. "It is. I was given to the caretakers at the Temple to be raised. One of them was Cetra, but he'd long since lost the ability to speak. He passed when I was twelve."

Angeal frowned, wondering how anyone could just lose the ability to speak, without a medical condition causing it. "I see. Thank you for clearing that up."

"Were there any more questions?"

Angeal considered the discussion he'd had with Genesis. "It's possible that he was teasing me, but Genesis told me you tame creatures called Zoloms and keep them as guardians. He claimed they were enormous snakes."

"It's true." Sephiroth smirked at him. "Although, I can't blame you for being suspicious. Genesis does tend to enjoy mind games."

"It's difficult to imagine a snake the size of what he described," admitted Angeal with another quiet smile. "But I understand your spirit animal is the serpent, so it's not hard to believe you could tame them, that way."

"Eventually, it will be my turn to host a festival event. You can see them for yourself, when that day comes."

Angeal wasn't sure he would look forward to seeing one in person, but he had to admit he was curious, and he'd just been subtly invited to visit Sephiroth's kingdom, too.

"You aren't afraid of snakes, are you?"

Angeal shook his head immediately. "Uneasy around them, maybe. Generally they can be useful—especially for keeping down the pest population. It can be a problem if the poisonous ones move into populated areas, though." He refrained from telling Sephiroth that it was sometimes necessary to cull the moccasin population a bit.

"That seems to be the general consensus, when it comes to serpents." Sephiroth looked at the carved, decorated walls of the corridor, his strange gaze flicking over the murals. "At least you're honest enough to admit it. Come, we should return to the banquet. The dancers and musicians will be out soon."

Angeal nodded, feeling a little better about the silver-haired man, now that they'd had this talk.

* * *

He wasn't prepared to be approached by Asim as soon as he stepped back into the banquet hall. Angeal raised his brows at him, and he was further confused when the royal advisor indicated Sephiroth with a bow, as well.

"My lords, the Pharaoh requests your presence in the royal chambers, immediately. Lord Zackary has already gone, and so has your advisor, great Serpent King."

Angeal exchanged a curious look with Sephiroth. "What is this all about, Asim?"

"It is best for you to hear it from the Pharaoh," answered the Menepheran man. "Please, go and speak with him, before the next course comes out. It's a matter of some urgency. That is all I can tell you."

"Then we'd best not leave him waiting," answered Sephiroth coolly. "Shall we?"

Angeal nodded, swallowing against a feeling of tightness in his throat as he wondered what could possibly be so urgent, in the middle of the celebrations.

* * *

Genesis handed him a cup of some strong-smelling spirits, the moment the chamber doors shut behind them. He offered one to Sephiroth, as well. Zack and Lazard sat at the small dining table, and they looked up at them.

"Have a seat, Ange," Zack offered to the big man, for once void of a smile. "Take a load off."

"I want to know what's going on," Angeal said sternly, eyeing them all with suspicion. His gaze settled on Genesis. "Pharaoh?"

Genesis nodded at the chairs around the table. "Sit down, and I'll tell you."

Sick of political intrigue, Angeal sighed and did as he was bidden, falling into old habits of obedience. He grimaced as he had a sip of his drink. It was some kind of whisky. "Okay, I'm sitting down. Now please, tell me what this is about."

"Banora has been taken."

Angeal stared at him, and so did Sephiroth. The Serpent King spoke up next. "If this is a joke, it's in very poor taste."

Genesis gave him an exasperated look. "Do you think for one moment I would jest about such a thing? You know better."

"How?" sputtered Angeal, getting back to his feet impulsively. "When?"

"Just last evening," answered Genesis. "We only got word of it an hour ago. They came with a fleet of sea crafts, and they struck before your people could offer a decent resistance."

"They're farmers and healers," Angeal growled, "of _course_ they couldn't put up much of a resistance! Dammit, I should have been there! I knew Shinra was up to no good when he came to—"

"Wait, back up," Zack interrupted. "You talked to Rufus Shinra?"

Angeal sighed. "Yes. He came to barter for our apples. He…wanted us to cut off trade with Menephera, or at least cut back on it so that they could get the larger share of imports."

"You didn't mention this," Genesis murmured.

"What good would have come of it? We sent them away and I've had people keeping a sharp eye out for any sign of an army, from either the sea or by air. There should have been enough warning to at least evacuate."

"Not with how they converged," Genesis explained. "Their vessels came up from _under_ the water. Your people wouldn't have seen them coming in time to mount a defense or evacuate." He looked at Sephiroth. "It's doubtful that they came for apples. They were after something else. Word has it they've taken to interrogating the citizens. My scout barely made it out without getting caught."

"Did she discover what they were after, before getting out?"

Genesis' gaze went to Angeal again. "They were asking about him. I suspect they've gotten word about what Angeal really is, and they might have entertained the notion of using him as a hostage. It seems we were _all_ wrong about where they would strike."

Angeal wasn't usually one to make rash decisions, but the only parents he'd ever known were there. "I've got to go."

"And do what?" Demanded Genesis, "Offer yourself as an exchange?"

Angeal stared, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"I know you now," reminded Genesis. "You would martyr yourself for them without a thought, my Anjiru. I can't allow that."

"So you're going to hold me here, against my will?"

Angeal's fingers tightened around the metal cup in his hand, and it began to collapse. Genesis' gaze flicked to it, then back to his face. The Pharaoh reached up and took off the mask, gazing at Angeal without the cover obscuring his features.

"Somehow I doubt I could easily hold you here against your will," answered the redhead, "so I'll attempt to reason with you. They did this to find _you_, Anjiru. That's what they want. They've already taken Sephiroth prisoner once, and now they know you have a connection to me. They'll use you against us, if you let them."

"Offering yourself up on a silver platter won't improve things," Sephiroth added. "They can't overpower us as a whole, and they know that. If they can enslave us one by one, they can take our lands. We're all that's left, Angeal."

"But my parents," protested the big man, losing his bluster. He was still new to this whole thing, and it was difficult to strategize when muzzy-headed with drink and anxious for the safety of his family.

"There are other ways," assured Genesis, "and we'll employ them. This was a bold move on ShinRa's part, though. They had to know this would attract our attention. Attacking neutral territory isn't a move to make lightly."

"We need to know what we're up against," Zack said. "This shit about underwater ships has me kind of worried."

"We'll get that information," Genesis said calmly.

"I can send word to my people to do that," offered Sephiroth. "My kingdom is closer, and my spies are adept at moving in without being detected."

Genesis nodded. "I agree. I'll have the soothsayers begin divinations immediately, and I'll do the same when time allows it." He looked at Angeal sternly. "We can't make a public issue of this, Anjiru. Not yet. Do you understand?"

No, he didn't. Not completely. He supposed this was why Genesis was a Pharaoh and he was just a Soldier, at heart. "I need to know if they're safe, Genesis."

"And I'll discover that, for you," promised the redhead. Ignoring the audience, he stroked Angeal's hair. "Probably faster than you could, by throwing yourself to their tender mercies."

"Trust them," urged Lazard. "The Serpent King's spy network is the best you could hope for. We've been gathering intelligence with them for some time, now."

"Which brings me to another issue that may or may not be separate," sighed the Serpent King. "I intended to discuss it after the festivities, since there haven't been further reports. I think perhaps it's best to tell you now, though."

"Well, don't leave us in suspense," sighed Genesis.

"My people reported a strange phenomenon off the coast of Junon, yesterday. There was an explosion and according to them, the ocean seemed to be on fire. A strange cloud rose from the disturbance, as well. It dissipated by nightfall, but it clearly wasn't caused by any natural event."

Zack looked down with a frown. "Aerith."

They looked at him questioningly. He looked up at them and sighed. "She had a nightmare or something, last night. You know how she can sense things, sometimes? Well, she said she felt a force of destruction. She couldn't give me any details, though. It took me and Cloud an hour to calm her back down, and the poor kid was shivering all night over it. I just thought it was a bad nightmare, but she did say she felt it from that area."

"Then it's possible she sensed the explosion, whatever it was," answered Lazard. He looked up at his king. "Highness, should we send people to investigate?"

"Yes," agreed Sephiroth. "But we have to be cautious. Junon is officially neutral territory, but ShinRa has a strong military presence there and it's only a matter of time before that city joins their ranks."

Lazard nodded. "Of course. I'll put our best stealth agents on it."

Genesis took Angeal's abused cup from him and he poured another drink for him, in a fresh cup. The big man took it with a sigh and sipped at it. Genesis regarded him with surprising compassion in his eyes, and he reached out to stroke his arm.

"If they have any idea who your parents are, they aren't likely to harm them. They'll want to try and use them against you."

"I wanted no part of these conflicts," murmured Angeal.

"War seldom gives quarters to our wishes," answered Genesis. "This conflict will reach everyone, sooner or later."

"I know it's petulant of me, but I don't want to return to the banquet hall, right now."

Genesis nodded. "Then rest here, in my chambers. Unfortunately, I need to return so as not to rouse suspicions. Sephiroth, you and Zack should come as well. We want to give the impression that nothing's amiss."

"Why?" he asked, sincerely puzzled. "If war could be coming, shouldn't your citizens know about it?"

"Not until we know what we're dealing with," Sephiroth answered before Genesis could. "It's always best not to announce such things before there's a true risk. The people of Menephera understand the danger of ShinRa aggression, but there's no immediate threat and it's best not to allow rumors to start."

"Public panic is a bad thing," Zack explained. He approached Angeal and patted his shoulder. "Try not to worry, big guy. We've got your back and we'll get Banora back from them."

"Don't make promises you may not be able to keep," muttered the big man.

Zack looked at his companions helplessly, but they could give no reassurances. As already stated, they needed to know exactly what they were up against, before anyone could guess what they needed to do and what their chances of success were. The humans and their ingenuity couldn't be underestimated.

* * *

Reeve walked along the beach later that same day, his eyes shielded from the sun by a pair of rectangular shades. He shook his head and frowned as he looked up and down the length of the beach. The crews were still cleaning up the mess. They just kept drifting in. The collapsible phone in his jacket pocket buzzed with an incoming call, and he pulled it out and opened it, lifting the antenna for reception.

"Tuesti, here."

"Reeve, I need you to make more submarines."

Reeve blinked. "Sir?"

"Those crafts were a triumph of engineering," answered Rufus, sounding supremely satisfied with himself. "I'd like you to begin production on another fleet of them, as soon as possible. We've taken over Banora."

"Banora?" Reeve felt utterly stupid, and he reached up to make sure he wasn't drooling like an idiot. "When did we take Banora, and what strategic value does that give us? I don't think the Seraphim kingdoms will collapse over the loss of some apples."

"We had a greater reason for capturing the islands," answered the President. "I intended to collaborate with you on it, but we made the decision to move in yesterday. I'll have to give you the details later, when I come to visit Junon. I'd like to see the process of creation myself. Those submarines are amazing, and they could help us in our struggle against the Serpent King."

"Wait, Sir…slow down," begged Reeve. He was willing to bet a full month's salary that Scarlet had something to do with this unprecedented move. She had a way of convincing Rufus to act hastily. "You attacked a peaceful farm community?"

"We took it over," corrected Rufus. "They didn't put up much of a resistance. Unfortunately, our primary goal escaped, but at least we've secured the islands. We can use that. As I said; I'll explain further when I come to Junon."

Reeve felt a stress headache threatening behind his eyes, and he rubbed the corners of them with his thumb and forefinger. "President, I can't promise swift production of another fleet. It took everything we had to build the first one."

"I have faith," answered Rufus calmly. "And there's a bonus in it for you, upon completion."

"Does that bonus include an extended vacation to Costa Del Sol?" sighed the engineer.

"If you wish. I'll arrive in Junon tomorrow. I'm anxious to see how you put these things together."

Reeve grimaced. "Yes, sir. I'll see you then."

He ended the call and he burst into a torrent of uncommon swearing. It seemed he was developing the mouth of a sailor, these days.

"Commissioner?" someone asked from behind him.

Reeve turned around in mid-swear. "Motherfu—er…yes?"

"We've loaded up as much of the sea life as we can fit on the disposal units. I'm afraid the rest will have to be…broken down." The young woman's gaze went to one of the whales lying in the sun. The carcasses were attracting sea gulls and other carrion birds. The stench would waft in to the harbor soon, if the bodies weren't disposed of. He could just imagine the puking throughout town once the ripe stench afflicted the citizens. That would surely raise more questions than people were already asking.

"Do whatever you need to do," he said. "Try to make use of the carcasses, too. These animals can be processed for fuels and materials."

"Yes Sir. You can leave it to us, Mr. Tuesti."

"Good," He sighed. "Because I feel like I need to go have a cry in my office. Excuse me."

She stared after him as he left, beyond caring how the statement made him look. He couldn't rest now, though. He had an urgent matter to discuss with Vincent.

"The president is coming," Reeve informed him. "Tomorrow, in fact."

"Then we'll need to be sure to retract the cannon and take proper measures to prevent its discovery," answered the seraph calmly.

"That isn't all," Reeve said. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "The beach is literally filled with the bodies of dead sea animals. They began to wash to shore this morning. Obviously, we need to clean them all up before Rufus gets here, or there will be questions and he'll need only ask his employees here or any passing citizen to get an account of the explosion."

"Tell him that one of the submarines malfunctioned during testing, as you intended to do," suggested Vincent. "It's unfortunate about the marine animals, but their deaths could be attributed to the explosion of the craft."

"Maybe," answered Reeve. He wished he were more confident about that. The cover story seemed solid at first, but it might not take a scientist or an engineer to know there was something suspect about that. Rufus would want to know why he was sending him submarines that could explode that way, and he might even question how just one of them could take out sea life for miles.

"You worry over something that hasn't occurred," Vincent said, guessing where his thoughts were going. "Right now, Rufus Shinra is blinded by his own ambition. In his quest to do what his father couldn't do before him, he misses details. Your story is plausible, Reeve. Stick with it."

"And what happens if he figures it out?" pressed Reeve. "We've been lucky not to have a leak, so far."

"If that happens, then we'll just have to act sooner." Vincent seemed utterly unconcerned. "I'll dispose of the sea life tonight. Don't worry about that."

Reeve frowned curiously at him. "How are you going to do that by yourself?"

"I can dissolve them with Lifestream."

The engineer blinked. He'd forgotten about that little trick. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?"

"You only just told me about the issue," reminded Vincent. "Why didn't _you_ think of it?"

"Because my head is too full of other issues, I suppose." Reeve rubbed his temples, wincing.

"Go and lay down, Reeve. You've done your part, for the day."

"More than," agreed Reeve. He just wish his "part" in all this were smaller. If he felt weighted down before, it was nothing compared to the burden he felt now. He wouldn't classify himself as a big environmentalist, but he'd upset the ecosystem off the coast in a big way, and he couldn't help but wonder how massive the impact would have been on land.

* * *

-To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 16

* * *

**_Author's note: This chapter has been censored for sexual content. You can read the uncensored version at Ygallery or Archive of our own, both of which are linked under my profile._**

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

Angeal was too restless to go to sleep right away, so he ended up making his way back out to the festival again. The moment Genesis spotted him, he motioned one of the servants over and he pointed the Banoran out to him. "You see that man there?"

The servant looked and nodded, the beads in his hair rattling with the motions.

"I want you to be sure he doesn't go without a drink in his hands at all times. Is that understood?"

The servant bowed in compliance. "Yes, my Pharaoh. Right away."

Genesis watched him meander over to Angeal and offer him a mug of fresh beer. Catching sight of Kasmut, he ordered her over to his throne and made an additional request.

"What can I do for you, my king?" asked the woman with a bow.

"You and Angeal get along well, don't you?"

Her dusky skin paled a bit. "Only as friends, I assure you."

Genesis smirked and waved it off. "I wasn't accusing you of anything. I need you to keep Angeal occupied. I want him distracted at all times, when I'm unable to attend him."

Kasmut smiled with obvious relief. "I understand, Pharaoh." Her dark eyes briefly scanned him before slipping to Angeal again, and the direction of her thoughts was fairly obvious to Genesis. Chuckling into his goblet, he waved her away.

"Go and talk combat tactics, or whatever you soldiers discuss amongst yourselves. I still have court matters to attend, unfortunately."

The woman nodded and left his side. Off in the distance, Sephiroth and Lazard were discussing something with Zack. Cloud was showing Aerith some sword moves with a padded weapon, and Genesis frowned when he noticed the girl stumble after trying to mimic him. It generally wasn't a good idea to practice fighting moves while tipsy, and Aerith seemed to be just that. The Pharaoh shrugged. It was Zack's responsibility to watch over his pets. If the girl hurt herself, so be it.

* * *

"I know what you're doing."

Kasmut raised her brows and painted an innocent look on her face. "And what is that?"

Angeal took another sip of his beer and he nodded in the direction of the royal throne, at the head of the banquet table. "He told you all to keep me distracted, didn't he? I saw him motion at me when he spoke to you, and I've barely been able to finish one mug before someone puts another one in my hands."

"The Pharaoh was only asking me how your combat training has proceeded," she said.

It might have been a convincing fib, if it weren't for the fact that Angeal hadn't had a real training session in Menephera since returning to visit for the festivities. "Kasmut," he sighed.

She grimaced and glanced over her shoulder at her ruler, before leaning closer to the big man and answering him in a whisper. "Very well, he's worried about you. He wants eyes on you at all times, to ensure you don't try to sneak away to return to your homelands."

"I gave him my word that I wouldn't," said Angeal in a dignified tone. "I keep my promises."

She looked at him with admiration, and she nodded. "Yes, you do. You are one of the most honorable men I've ever known—even if you're above other men."

"I'm not 'above' anyone," insisted Angeal, his jaw tensing. "My heritage wasn't earned. Nobody should have power just handed to them by virtue of birth."

Kasmut displayed white teeth in a smile. "You have a strange way of viewing the world, my friend."

Angeal took another drink. "Hopefully it won't be such a unique view, some day. I'm not comfortable with my friends and family suddenly treating me like a king, just because I grew a wing one day."

Kasmut held her own mug out in invitation, and when he clunked his against it, she drank deeply. "Maybe those changes will happen," she suggested after finishing off her mug. "But if they do not, at least we have you to try and make things better."

Angeal smirked ruefully. "I'm not sure how much one man can do, but..." He trailed off as a servant came by and exchanged his nearly empty mug with a fresh one. He started to sputter a protest, but the man was gone before he could get a single word out. Angeal looked at his fresh, foaming beverage and he sighed. "If he thinks he's going to get me drunk this easily, he doesn't understand my tolerance."

Kasmut chuckled. "Perhaps he merely hopes to take the edge off. I know how worried you are about your village and your parents. However..." She bit her lip and looked away.

"What?" pressed Angeal curiously.

"Forgive me, but they aren't your true parents, are they?" She eyed him thoughtfully. "They are human, like me."

"They aren't my blood," he agreed, "but they're the only parents I've ever known. They're family, and I would be a poor son if I left them in the hands of ShinRa."

Kasmut nodded in understanding. "Do you know who your birth parents were at all?"

He shook his head. "No, and I don't really care. They gave me up, and it isn't worth my time to worry about finding them again, right now. Maybe some day, when we've expulsed ShinRa from our lands and Banora is free again. Right now, I couldn't care less who gave birth to me. I just want my friends and family safe again."

"You have my weapons at your disposal," she promised, "if it comes to a fight."

He managed a little smile for her, and he lifted his mug to her in a salute. "I appreciate that, Kasmut. I think I may retire again, after this drink. Otherwise they'll just keep throwing beer at me and I really _will_ end up drunk."

She chuckled and nodded in agreement.

* * *

Genesis frowned when he saw Angeal leave the banquet area. He watched him head back inside and he debated with himself. The hour was growing rather late. Asim sat at his side and upon noticing the direction of his stare, he leaned close to whisper to his Pharaoh.

"Perhaps his highness would benefit from bringing his participation this evening to a close," suggested the advisor. "Most of the participants are engaged in other activities or muzzy on drink."

Genesis looked around to see that Asim's observation was indeed correct. Some people were in a tangle of limbs, unmindful of onlookers as they engaged in pleasures of the flesh. Others were heavily invested in games of dice or drinking, or else they were off in their own little groups talking politics. The rest were passed out in various states of undress, or simply lying face-down in the pillows piled around the courtyard.

"I will cover for you, if anyone asks," Asim encouraged with a smile. "I think your business with court is over, for the night. Go to your Angeal, my king."

Genesis sighed. He'd never escape the gossip, now. He'd given up on denying allegations that he held special affections for Angeal Hewley. Quietly grateful to his royal advisor for offering to take care of any lingering matters for him, he nodded. "Be sure to inform me of any further matters of the state that may arise while I'm gone," he instructed. "And come and get me if any further news concerning Banora arrives. I don't care what time of night it is, Asim. I want to know the minute anything changes."

Asim bowed deeply. "Yes, my Pharaoh. Please remember that you said that, should I come seeking audience at an...inopportune time."

Genesis smirked at him. "I'll keep it in mind. Goodnight, Asim."

* * *

Angeal looked up as the thick, gilded doors to the Pharaoh's private chambers opened, and Genesis walked in. He gave the redhead a lingering scan with his eyes, admiring him from head to toe before returning his attention to the book he was trying to read. Genesis approached, looking for all the world like some exotic creature from legend, with his gold painted nails, kohl lined eyes and desert-cultural jewelry. Genesis tilted his head as he read the cover of the book Angeal held in his hands, and he appeared faintly surprised.

"You're reading a Wutaian book?"

"Trying to," answered Angeal. He looked up from the unfamiliar text with a smirk. "I've started trying to teach myself different languages. I thought it would be useful to get at least a rudimentary understanding of them, for diplomatic reasons."

"You never told me." Genesis approached, smiling with something that might have been pride. "I can teach you."

"I didn't want to trouble you with it," answered the big man. He gave up with a sigh and replaced the book on Genesis' shelf. "You have enough matters to deal with as it is, without me asking for language tutoring."

"I could make time," insisted Genesis. "I'm very good at that—particularly when it comes to further education. I wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of you in politics. You'll be Banora's ruler—"

"Protector," corrected Angeal sternly.

Genesis sighed. "Of course. Protector. In that light, it _is_ important that you know how to communicate with people that might offer trade to you, or in the case of territorial issues. I know you want no part in war, but it's in the nature of humans to try and spread out. ShinRa has already demonstrated this to you."

"Yes, because they don't want the seraphim to have more control than they do," reasoned Angeal. His jaw clenched. "You say it's in human nature to spread out, but what about seraphim? Half of the conflict can be blamed on encroachment into human controlled lands."

Genesis rolled his eyes. "You can take that up with Sephiroth. I'm content with where my kingdom is at, right now. As far as I'm concerned, the further you spread out your influence out, the harder it is to maintain and protect. I don't really care one way or the other what the humans do with their kingdoms, as long as they don't interfere with or attack mine."

Angeal relaxed a bit. "But if you're going to help with Banora, it could lead to trouble for your people."

"A risk I'm prepared to take," answered Genesis without hesitation. He closed the distance between them and he put his hands on the bigger man's shoulders, gazing into his eyes. "You're mine, remember? That means I have an obligation to keep you and your people safe."

"You can be very confusing," sighed Angeal, but then Genesis was kissing him, and he lost the will to argue further. It only took the pressure of his soft lips against his and the swipe of his tongue inside of his mouth to make Angeal temporarily forget about his angst. He put his arms around Genesis, his wing manifesting of its own accord as the sensual motions of the redhead's lips and tongue awakened his passion. He embraced him with the expansive white appendage, drawing him closer.

Some sweet, warm emotion spread through him as Genesis made a soft noise of desire in his throat. The knowledge that the Pharaoh reciprocated his protective feelings for him gave him a sense of confidence that perhaps everything would be okay, after all. With Sephiroth's help and to a lesser extent, Zack's, they might recapture Banora before any severe damage was done.

"I want you," Genesis murmured against his lips, "to forget about everything tonight, Angeal. Just relax and feel. Let me take it away for a little while."

Angeal was about to tell him that he'd already managed to take away some of it, but he was curious about what he intended to do. "I'm not sure it's possible for me to forget about 'everything'," he said, testing the redhead, "but you're welcome to try and make me."

Genesis' mouth curved into a sensual smile, and he reached up to sift his fingers through Angeal's dark hair. "Is that a challenge, my determined one?"

"I think it just might be," confirmed Angeal, trying not to smile himself. He gasped when Genesis dragged the clawed tips of his golden finger caps down his chest, leaving a faint trail of pink marks in its wake. Genesis' mouth followed the marks of the claws, kissing and licking to sooth the faint sting of the light scratches. Angeal looked down at him, his breath quickening with excitement he couldn't contain as the Pharaoh went to his knees. Genesis looked up at him with a smile that said he might be the one kneeling, but he was in control of the situation. Angeal grunted a bit when the redhead slipped a hand into the shendyt he wore around his hips, gripping his swelling cock.

"Shall I see to this, then?" Genesis stroked slowly, drawing a low groan of pleasure from the brunet. He leaned forward to trace Angeal's belly-button with the tip of his tongue. "Or perhaps you'd rather me caress other areas for a while, first. I wouldn't want to move too fast."

"You tease," muttered Angeal as Genesis released him and started to pull his hand out of his garment. "Don't add sexual frustration to my stress, please."

Genesis chuckled, but instead of resuming his fondling, he unfastened the skirt and let it fall to the floor, baring Angeal's substantial arousal to view. He examined it for a moment, stroking the Banoran's hips as he admired the length and girth of it. "You make me breathless," he admitted in a sensual purr.

Angeal could have made a pun about other ways his...equipment...could make Genesis breathless, but he lacked the humorous wit of Zack. He lost interest in exchanges of wit when Genesis began to demonstrate his expertise as blowjobs.

He felt better already.

* * *

With the morning came the insecurity and fear, again. Angeal woke up to find Genesis already awake and eating a selection of fruit at the dining table. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, his head throbbing a little with a mild hangover.

"Have some," invited the Pharaoh commandingly. "The after effects of the drink will get better with nourishment."

"Or I could throw it all up," muttered the big man crankily. When Genesis looked at him with clear, aqua eyes, he lowered his gaze and muttered an apology.

"Aren't we the short-tempered sort after a night of drinking," observed Genesis. He smirked as Angeal retrieved his skirt from the night before and put it on before joining him. "There's really no need for that."

"You're dressed," Angeal reminded him, letting his gaze linger on Genesis' appeal for a moment. "Well, as 'dressed' as you ever are."

Genesis looked down at his own gold-threaded shendyt with a shrug. "My kingdom won't run itself. You, however, are my special guest. You could lounge in here bare of a thread of clothing, for as long as you like. I could even have the servants bring a bath in here to you, if you wish."

Angeal was almost tempted to take him up on that offer, but he'd started to get used to showering in public, and it sounded like a lot of trouble. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll just use the bathhouse once I've woken up enough not to slip and crack my head open."

"I doubt a single fall could be enough to crack your thick skull open," teased Genesis, "but I'm pleased that you're finally doing away with some of that silly modesty of yours."

"Only while I'm here," Angeal countered with a shrug. He picked up a small sprig of grapes and he began to pick at it. "I still prefer to do my bathing in private, anywhere else. I've come to accept the customs here, though."

Genesis' bare foot rubbed against his leg under the table. The Pharaoh watched him as he licked the juice of a citrus fruit off his fingers, deliberately taking his time with it. "How you've grown, my Anjiru."

Angeal forgot what he was doing and he stopped with a freshly plucked grape partway to his lips. Yes, he was "growing" all right. He cleared his throat and popped the grape into his mouth. "Thank you," he said after chewing and swallowing it—because he couldn't think of anything else to say. His food almost stuck in his throat as the foot moved up his leg and brushed against his inner thigh.

"Has there been any word on the situation in Banora, yet?"

Genesis' sensual expression was replaced with something more somber. "Not yet. Sephiroth's spies have just reached the islands. You know that the minute we get word of what's happening there, I'll let you know. Do you trust me?"

Not so long ago, Angeal might have answered "no" to that question with little to no hesitation. However, Genesis had managed to capture his heart so completely, and he'd proven that he had the heart of a champion, beneath that cold, self-absorbed exterior. He just needed to learn how to _use_ that part of him.

"Yes, I trust you."

Genesis smiled. "Good. I swear to you, we'll correct this situation one way or another. Just try not to think of it for now, because it does you no good. We can't move until we know what we'll be dealing with."

"I understand that," Angeal sighed. He frowned as Genesis slid down in his chair and vanished under the table. "It's just not possible for me to stop thinking about it, Genesis. They're my...my...what are you doing?"

He looked down as he felt his skirt being fiddled with under the table. "Oh. That isn't fair, you know."

There was a soft chuckle, before Genesis again distracted him with his mouth. Angeal squeezed the grapes in his hand to mush and tilted his head back.

* * *

"President, welcome to Junon." Reeve stepped aside as Rufus Shinra stepped into the office he was using. Scarlet came in behind him, and he frowned at her. "What's _she_ doing here? I thought you left her in Banora to keep things under control there."

"I decided to leave that in the hands of my Turks," answered Rufus. "Heidegger is with them. I need Scarlet at my side."

"For what? Are you short on single bills?"

The implication of her being a stripper wasn't lost on her, and she snarled at him. "Be careful how you speak to me, engineer. I could have your job, if I wanted to."

Reeve gave her a contemptuous look. "I doubt it. Who would you replace me with, _you_? You wouldn't know how to recharge a car battery, you ditzy broad."

"That's enough out of both of you," Rufus said coldly, glaring at them both in turn. "I get tired of having to act as your mediator every time the two of you are in the same room together. Reeve, I'd like to see the progress on the next fleet, if you don't mind. The seraphim are bound to strike back soon, and the Serpent King has taken two small settlements to the south, already. We can't slack off, now. If we're going to hold Banora and Mideel, we need to boost our arsenal."

Reeve looked away from Scarlet, and he tried to ignore the triumphant smirk he saw on her lips out the corner of his eye. "Sir, I beg your pardon, but I really haven't had the time or resources to get many submarines built, since you put out the order for a second fleet. I'm short staffed as it is."

"Then show me what you've done so far, and we can discuss options to increase your work force after that."

Reeve sighed. There was really no getting around it. He hoped Vincent was doing the smart thing and staying out of sight. "Then please come with me." Reeve gave a formal little bow at the waist. "I trust what we've done so far will be to your satisfaction."

Scarlet snorted. "We'll see about that."

Reeve gave her a glare potent enough to shut her up.

* * *

_~Oh shit. What the hell is he doing?~_

The thought spun through Reeve's mind like a top and he could literally see everything crashing down around him in his mind's eye. There was Vincent, in the production chamber, working with the mechanics there. He wore a standard gray mechanic uniform like the others and his raven hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but he still stood out. He glanced up from his welding task when one of the other mechanics called out a greeting to their boss. Thankfully, the protective visor masked his features, and he didn't watch Reeve or his guests for longer than a moment, before returning his attention to what he was doing.

"Tuesti? Did you hear the question I just asked you?"

Reeve covertly loosened his tie before turning to answer the president. "I'm sorry, the noise...what was that?"

"I asked if these are all the workers you have assigned to this task." The president stood calmly, with his hands clasped behind his back and his handsome face unreadable.

"Y-yes," answered the engineer a tad uncertainly. "Well, there are a few more, but they do their work in shifts.

_~And some of them are occupied with the cannon.~_

Rufus didn't seem very impressed. He frowned as he looked around at the expansive chamber, and he approached one of the half-built submarines to inspect it. "How many more would you need to have a fleet completed for me within a week?"

"Uh...it's hard to say." Reeve's attention was divided between the president and Vincent—the latter of which had stopped what he was doing to approach them. "A hundred, at least. They don't all need to be mechanics. Some can assist with transporting materials, and with guidance they could even—"

"What about materials?" interrupted Scarlet. "How much do you need?"

"I'd have to do some figuring and write that down for you," answered Reeve. "We have enough for around twenty subs right now."

Rufus and Scarlet exchanged a glance and a nod. "Then start drafting the civilians here," Rufus said. "I'm sure there are enough among the population with the necessary skills to help. I'll have production doubled in the mines and transported to you via airship."

"You want me to force civilians to work on this?"

Vincent stepped up beside him and spoke, startling Reeve so badly that he jumped.

"Sir, we're very short on people. Perhaps the president's suggestion should be considered."

Reeve stared at him, seeing the faint glow of his eyes behind the shadows of his visor. "I...well...we could announce recruitment and see how that goes, first. Some may come of their own accord, if they're offered a reasonable salary."

"The protection of their homes is their payment for their assistance," Scarlet said coldly. "If they want to keep it that way, they'd better wise up and do as instructed."

Reeve bristled, briefly forgetting his alarm over Vincent's unexpected presence. "Those people already do their part for the kingdom. They work the farms, they build, they trade. Without them, ShinRa wouldn't be much of anything. You can't just drag people from their homes and chain them up!"

"All right, let's calm down," Rufus said sternly before Scarlet could argue with him. "Why don't we let Mr. Tuesti try it _his_ way first. If his recruitment drive doesn't pull in enough workers, then we can consider using more forceful methods. Unfortunately, I can't spare any of my people from Midgar to help with this, right now."

Scarlet glared at Reeve as the engineer smirked in satisfaction for winning that round. "Thank you, sir," Reeve said. He shot a look at Vincent, but it was wasted on him. The demon had already returned to his welding.

_~Just what the hell are you trying to do, Vincent?~_

"I'm curious," Scarlet said, breaking through Reeve's troubled thoughts. "Just last week, you reported that you had enough materials for forty submarines, if necessary. Now that number is down to half that amount?"

Reeve kept his cool, but he felt himself breaking into a sweat. "That's right. We had some problems with some of the work equipment, however. I had to use those materials for other things."

"Hmm." Scarlet looked the submarine over, and she crossed her arms over her chest, boosting her cleavage a bit and drawing the gaze of half the male workers within visual range. "Let's hope you don't have another...accident. I hear the explosion from that last defective sub was seen for miles."

Reeve scratched his head, painting a distracted look on his face. "Yes, and we're still cleaning up the mess from that. That happens to be another reason production has slowed down. Do you want a fleet that works, or do you want one that blows up and takes your men with it?"

"Indeed," agreed Rufus, casting a warning look at Scarlet. "I trust you have everything well in hand, then. Scarlet and I will take our leave and go to our suite. I'll have the arrangements made to have further materials transported to you, and we can discuss this further after lunchtime."

Reeve nodded. "That sounds like a plan. Would you like an escort out?"

The two of them glanced at one another again. "No, we know our way around. I'll speak with you later, Reeve."

The engineer watched them go, and Vincent snuck up on him again. "Their behavior is suspicious," remarked the demon, making Reeve jump again.

"Stop _doing_ that," snapped Reeve, glancing sidelong at the taller man. "I'm on edge enough as it is, without you lurking around. I'm going to start making you wear a bell or something."

Vincent lifted his visor, now that the president and his military advisor were out of sight. He gazed at Reeve with dual colored eyes, his pale, cold features utterly unconcerned. "You've been concerned about them finding you out," he reminded in a low voice, "and I thought it best to be close at hand, when I heard they were coming to inspect the work here."

"Why?" demanded Reeve. "To what purpose?"

"In case they tried to arrest you," answered Vincent calmly.

Reeve lost his steam after that. "I don't think that's going to happen. If they were going to do that, they would have sent someone to do it already. They wouldn't have bothered to come in themselves to see the work I've done."

Vincent shrugged. "You know them better than I do. I just thought I would keep watch, just in case."

Suddenly intrigued, Reeve scratched his beard and looked at Vincent studiously. "What would you have done, if they'd tried to arrest me in front of you? Would you have let your wings out and stopped them?"

Vincent didn't answer verbally, but he smirked coolly. "I'm going to return to my chambers, now. Try to keep your calm, Reeve."

Reeve watched him leave, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, feeling a headache coming on. "Keep my calm," he muttered. "Right."

* * *

"I think you're right," Rufus muttered to Scarlet as they walked through the Headquarters building to their suite. "He's hiding something. Even equipment repairs don't account for the amount of raw materials that went missing."

She nodded. "I told you he couldn't be trusted, Sir. Tuesti is pulling something on us."

"And just what do you think that 'something' might be?" demanded Rufus. "I've had all weapon production carefully monitored since the seraphim threat increased."

"Then he's not reporting everything he should be," reasoned the blonde woman. "I can't read minds, but I know he's up to something. I think it's time for you to consider my suggestion."

Rufus sighed, looking up at the wall sconces as they passed them. "If I do that, production may come to a halt. We could be on the verge of a massive war for the future of our race, Scarlet. I can't afford to lose the most brilliant engineer we have at our disposal."

"Who says you have to lose him?" She lowered her voice prudently as they passed by a corridor with people walking around in it. "The mechanics here already know how to build the items required of them. All Tuesti does these days is supervise, unless he comes up with some new adjustment or invention. You can still make him work from a prison cell, if you need to."

Rufus compressed his lips. "Perhaps we could arrange a...talk. I won't incarcerate him in full until I actually have a valid reason."

"You've suspected him of treason for some time, now," she reasoned softly. "Rufus, you could risk everything if you don't get a handle on this soon. Think of the damage a man like him could do, if he did turn against you."

"We'll make arrangements," said Rufus stiffly, "and I'll decide what to do from there. Don't forget your place, Scarlet. You're an advisor, not an authority figure over me."

She lowered her gaze contritely, but her ruby lips pulled into a conniving little smile that wasn't lost on him. Rufus stopped and cupped her jaw in one hand, roughly. She winced as he forced her to meet his narrowed, cold gray eyes. "I will have respect from all of my people," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "and that includes promiscuous blondes that think they can manipulate me into doing what they want. Just because you have other men by the cock doesn't mean you've got me, as well."

"I...I'm sorry," she said as calmly as she could, her jaw creaking with the pressure of his cruel hold on it. "I'm only trying to do my job...as your advisor."

He released her, and she rubbed her aching jaw with a wary look at him. "Then do so. Advise me. Just don't expect me to do everything you suggest, and we'll get along well."

She nodded, wisely keeping further thoughts to herself.

* * *

"You know what I like the most about this place?" Zack asked as he lounged in the pillows with Aerith.

"The free beer?" she guessed with a smile.

Zack took a drag of his pipe and held his breath, shaking his head. He offered the pipe to her and she took a hit off it. He grinned at her before releasing the greens smoke from his lungs, and he blew little smoke rings. "Nope. All the naked people."

"Zack!" She slapped his bare stomach, making him cough in surprise.

"What?" He grinned wider at her. "Look around? These people wear even less than you jungle folk do."

"You live in a jungle," she reminded with a giggle. She caught his face between her hands and forced him to look at her as his gaze followed a topless woman and the scantily clad man walking with her. "Zack, there are only supposed to be _two_ naked bodies you want to look at, now."

"Oh, there are," he assured her, sensing she wasn't really angry so much as exasperated. He eyed her appreciatively and he toyed with the laces of her beaded top. "So if you want to ditch this thing..."

Aerith slapped his hand away, blushing a little. "Zack, I told you I'm not comfortable with that, here. I'm keeping my top on."

He sighed. "You sure about that, baby?" He nuzzled the side of her face, then nibbled her ear. She gasped as he grazed her nipple through the halter she wore.

"Am I going to have to cool you down?" warned the water maiden seriously, raising a warning brow at him as she pulled back.

Zack took his hands off her and held them out, holding the little pipe between two fingers. "Okay, I got it. Point taken. I don't want you to do...whatever that thing was you did to me yesterday."

She calmed down. "That's better. You can play all you want, when we go back to our chambers."

"Why didn't you say so?" Zack suddenly grabbed her and got up, putting her over his shoulder. "Let's go!"

"_Zaaack_! Stop it this minute!" Aerith saw Cloud approaching from the palace entrance and she called out to him. "Cloud, he's being a caveman again!"

Cloud walked over to them, and Zack turned around to face him. The blond was grinning, but there was a warning in his vivid blue eyes. "I thought we just had this talk with you last night."

"Uh, I don't remember much from last night, after I had that meeting with the others," confessed Zack. He put Aerith back on her feet and he gave her a sheepish smile. "I was just teasing, sweetheart. You know I'd never force you to do anything."

Aerith sighed, and she glanced sidelong at Cloud. "Thanks, Cloud. Sometimes we need to rub his nose in it to get him to understand."

Cloud smiled quietly and nodded. "Bad wolf."

Zack put an arm around both of them. "You knew what you were getting into...both of you. So, Cloud, did you want to do a little sparring today?"

Cloud nodded. "Mm. That would be good. I just spoke with Tifa and she says everything is okay in Gongaga."

"Good." Zack ruffled his soft, golden hair affectionately. "I _told_ you they'd take good care of her, kiddo."

Cloud put his hands into the pockets of his jeans and he nodded. "Yeah. So, if we're going to spar, we should probably do it soon. I...uh...don't like the heat."

"Yeah, I know." Zack gave him a quick smooch on the cheek—the only thing Cloud would allow in public, if he wasn't buzzing enough to loosen up. "You Nibel residents are built for the cold, I guess. I'll have someone bring a bath to our room so you can cool off in private afterwards. Why don't you and Aerith go on ahead to the arena while I do that?"

Cloud nodded and took Aerith's hand. "Okay. See you there."

Together, the two of them started off, leaving the grounds of the palace to go to the arena to the north. Zack watched them with a content little smile, doubting he'd ever find anyone else willing to put up with him as much as they did.

"Damn, I'm lucky."

"Um...Wolf Lord?"

Zack turned to face the Menepheran that had addressed him. He smiled charmingly at the young woman. "What can I do for you?"

Her tanned cheeks gained a hint of additional color as she blushed. She lowered her eyes modestly and bowed. "There has been news of Banora from the Serpent King's agents. I was to deliver it directly to the Pharaoh or his royal advisor, but I could not find them."

Zack looked back toward the palace entrance thoughtfully. Seph was probably soaking with Lazard somewhere inside, and Genesis...well, he hadn't emerged from his chambers all morning. It didn't take a genius to guess what _he_ was doing, and with who. He looked at the girl again and he chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. He had a date with his lovers, but this was really important.

"Tell you what: give me the message and then you keep looking for Asim, while I go and see if I can get an audience with the Pharaoh. Deal?"

She bowed again, smiling shyly at him. "Yes, my lord. Thank you."

* * *

"I really need to get to my duties, after this," Genesis panted, rocking on top of his lover.

"I understand," agreed Angeal, pumping beneath him as he ran his calloused hands all over his body. He shut his eyes and groaned. "Genesis..."

The Pharaoh moaned in response as one of those big hands began to stroke his erection. "Goddess...you're going to make me come _again_, Anjiru."

"Good," said the brunet in a tense voice. "I'd hate to be the only one."

_*Knock, knock, knock*_

Genesis frowned, but he didn't slow his gyrations on top of his companion as he looked toward the doors. "What is it? I'm occupied."

Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the doors, and Zack's voice floated through. "Yeah, I figured as much, but I've got some pretty important news for you and Ange. Sorry."

Genesis stopped and looked down at Angeal, who had stopped fondling him and opened his eyes. Licking his lips to moisten them, Genesis eased off of the brunet's cock, hissing a little with frustrated need as it slipped out of him.

"Give us a moment."

With a little sigh, Genesis climbed off of Angeal and he retrieved their shendyts from the floor. He held Angeal's out to him, before securing his own. He combed his fingers through his auburn hair and he waited for his companion to finish wrapping his skirt around his hips, before unlocking the doors and opening them. Zack came in, shirtless and clad in a pair of loose pants. He removed the wolf mask and took a relieved breath, before speaking.

"Okay, so here's the deal; Seph's spies made it to Mideel, but Banora is closed off. They aren't letting anyone in or out. They still managed to get a glimpse of the center of the village from the trees, and it's not so good."

Behind him, Angeal tensed and Genesis was so attuned to him by now that he sensed the tension radiating from him. He silently begged the Banoran to remain patient, and he kept his voice calm and level. "Enough with the dramatic pause. Tell me what they reported."

"They've hung a few people," answered Zack, his gaze going to Angeal with sympathy. "About five. The bodies are hanging in the middle of town...probably as a warning to other residents. I guess a few people caused some trouble for them and—"

Angeal immediately started for the doors. Genesis intercepted him, and Zack did as well. The Wolf Lord spoke before the Pharaoh could. "Whoa, take it easy, big guy," advised Zack. "Let me finish! Your folks are okay. The spies identified them standing by the well. I don't know who got hung, but it wasn't your parents."

Angeal stopped, his dark blue eyes aglow and staring into Zack's. "Is that the truth?"

Zack nodded, his brows furrowing with concern and compassion. "Yeah. I wouldn't lie to you about that. You know me, man."

Angeal looked at both seraphim, and it was difficult to say whether he intended to push past them or not. Genesis spoke next, trying to get through that thick skull and reach the logical part of Angeal Hewley. "You swore to me that you wouldn't rush off and get yourself killed," he reminded him. "And I swore to you that I would free your village. Neither of us are oath breakers, Anjiru. You know this."

Angeal took a steadying breath, his powerful body tense from head to toe. "If they've started to execute people, my parents could be next."

"I don't think so," reasoned Genesis. "Not if their purpose is to lure you to them. Dead bodies make terrible bargaining tools."

Zack winced. "Couldn't you have said that a little...uh...nicer, Gen?"

"No, he's right," sighed Angeal, shutting his eyes. "If it's really me they're after, they aren't likely to kill my parents. But they could still torture them, and they could start burning down the town if they get impatient."

"President Shinra is no fool, when it comes to tactics," Genesis said. "He managed to lure Sephiroth and his advisor into a trap. If it weren't for the unexpected aid they received, they would both still be in the custody of ShinRa."

"And this whole Banora mess might not have happened," sighed Zack. He looked at Angeal with regret stamped on his face. "We got your town into this. Actually..._I_ did. Sephiroth only went to negotiate with Shinra because of me."

"That has nothing to do with their occupation of my village," Angeal said. "You have nothing to apologize for, Zack."

"Well maybe not, but I can't help but feel like if it that hadn't happened, they wouldn't have taken over Banora. They're kind of desperate right now. That's the feeling I'm getting from them, anyway."

"Or they're simply growing more bold," Genesis said. "They did arrive on the islands via armed, underwater sea vessels. Honestly, this grab for power likely would have occurred regardless of Sephiroth's escape. Discovering that Angeal—a seraphim—was protecting Banora was only a bonus."

"If they hadn't come for my town, they would have probably gone after yours, Zack." Angeal had obviously calmed down enough to think like a tactician, and Genesis nodded in agreement with him. "They're obviously trying to capture one of us to use against the rest. My home was just the easiest target, because we weren't prepared for an invasion."

Angeal suddenly turned and stalked away, his fists clenched. "We just wanted to live peaceful, quiet lives. I wasn't there to protect them."

"Hey, don't go telling me not to blame myself and then turn around and do the same thing," Zack admonished. He walked up to Angeal and he patted him on the back. "We'll figure something out. We've just got to put our heads together and plan the next move. Shinra doesn't know who they're messing with."

Genesis resisted the impulse to tell Zack that Shinra knew _exactly_ who they were dealing with, and that therein was the problem.

* * *

Reeve took off his gloves as he walked to his office. The day had been so harrowing, and it was only half finished. He considered going to a restaurant for lunch, but his stomach was too upset to try eating anything right now. Vincent's words of concern kept swirling around in his mind. He was walking such a fine edge, now. He suspected that the president knew something wasn't quite as it should be, and he wouldn't be at all surprised if he had Scarlet to thank for that. The hateful woman would have _invented_ a reason for Rufus to mistrust him, if she didn't have anything solid to go by.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm screwed?" he sighed as he fished his keys out of his jacket. He started to unlock his office door, but he frowned when he found it already unlocked. Reeve thought back on the morning, trying to recall if he'd neglected to lock up behind himself when he left with Scarlet and the president. "Strange," he muttered. He could have sworn he'd locked it.

"Mr. Tuesti."

Reeve looked up at the man approaching him, and he vaguely recognized him as one of Rufus' personal bodyguards. "Yes, what is it?"

He sensed the door open behind him and he started to turn, but the bodyguard in the hallway suddenly punched him in the stomach, making him crumble and gasp. Someone caught him from behind and dragged him into the office. Something dropped over his head as he struggled, taken by surprise. Reeve's vision was blocked off and he smelled potatoes as the sack was secured over his head. He reached for another pocket, fumbling deftly for an item in there. When he found it he made a blind, clumsy jab at his assailant, pressing down on the trigger button in the center. There was an exclamation of surprised pain and the body of his captor jerked, but Reeve dropped the item before it could do its full job.

"Son of a bitch," snarled the man holding Reeve.

Something struck the engineer on the temple, hard. He collapsed in a daze, stunned by the blow. Another one followed it, and he fell into darkness. His last thought was: _"Yep, I'm screwed."_

* * *

Rufus waited in the automobile with Scarlet, just outside headquarters. Their people came out with a large suitcase, and he and the blonde woman looked at one another in satisfaction as the object was lifted with effort into the trunk. The men got in the front, and the driver rubbed his side as if it pained him.

"Mission accomplished, sir," he announced.

Rufus nodded. "Then let's take our leave."

As the car pulled away and drove down the streets of the city to the airport, Scarlet looked at Rufus uncertainly. "Was it really necessary to kidnap him, sir? You had every right to have him formally arrested."

"Not without proof," answered Rufus. "I didn't want to make a scene. As far as Tuesti's employees are concerned, he left on business to Midgar with us of his own free will. Nobody needs to know he was taken for questioning. It would only slow down production."

Seeing the logic in that, she agreed. "Well played, President."

Rufus smirked.

* * *

-To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 17

* * *

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

"Lord Tseng, the Turk woman is here to see you."

The ruler of Wutai looked up from the book he was reading, and he sat up straighter in the elaborately carved bower of his bed. He set the book aside and nodded. "Show her in and leave us."

The servant bowed. "Right away."

Tseng got out of the bed as the attractive little blonde woman was shown in. He gave a polite nod to her as the door was shut again, leaving them alone together in the privacy of his room. "Elena," he greeted as she clasped her hands together before her hips. "It's been some time. I would have expected you to rest for the night and come calling in the morning. This must be important."

"It is," she agreed. "I was sent here by the president, to discuss the current state of affairs."

"You mean the war beginning with the Serpent King," guessed the Wutaian leader, "and possibly the Pharaoh, as well. President Shinra must take into consideration my situation here. I have rebels in the hills trying to infiltrate Wutai and unseat me."

The blonde woman nodded. "I understand, and so does the President. He only wants your support, when things go south...and they will, Tseng. It's only a matter of time."

Tseng approached her, his black eyes sweeping over her form thoughtfully. "You dress like a man," he observed, "and sometimes, you even speak like one."

She smirked. "Sometimes it's necessary to get the job done, Lord Tseng. You know I'm just as much a woman beneath this suit as the little geishas in your city."

Tseng tilted his head, his long, straight black hair falling over one shoulder. Elena's hazel eyes followed the motion, and she raised her brows. "I could accuse you of looking womanly, while we're on the subject of gender appearance."

Tseng's mouth curved into a subtle smile of challenge. "And yet you know I'm very much a man, beneath this Wutaian finery."

Elena's gaze traveled said finery, taking in the black, violet and blue, peacock print of the yukata. She reached out as she met his eyes again, challenging him with her gaze. "I seem to recall something man-like beneath this thing, yes. A little memory refreshment might help."

"I haven't agreed to Rufus' terms," reminded Tseng huskily as she began to unwrap him like a gift. He reached out and began to reciprocate with her uniform.

"Oh, I think I can persuade you." Elena stepped into his embrace and parted his garments. "You have all the power here, Tseng. I'm only a messenger."

He parted her blazer and shirt, baring her breasts to view. "You don't strike me as a powerless woman, Elena. I think it should be interesting to find out which of us will end up on top."

She smiled as he kissed her, more than happy to take him up on that challenge.

* * *

"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Tuesti?"

Reeve looked up through matted, blood-dampened locks of brown hair at the president. He was still trying to get his bearings after waking up in a cell. "I think I can guess."

Rufus sighed and took a seat on the bunk across the small room from him. "And what guess would you venture?"

"Well, I'm sure I'm not here because of my charm and good looks," responded the engineer, wincing as he pressed the cloth given to him against the cut on his scalp. "So that leaves performance issues, I would imagine. You know sir, tossing me in a jail cell isn't going to make your fleet get built any faster."

"I think you know it isn't the quality or speed of your work on the submarines that prompted me to take this action, Tuesti." Rufus clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head, his gray eyes narrowed on him. "Don't pretend ignorance. It cheapens us both."

Reeve watched him silently, tight-lipped.

"The prisoner," Rufus went on calmly. "The Seraph. We had him in our grasp, and he somehow miraculously escaped before we could so much as take a tissue sample from him. Not only that, but he managed to procure my dear half-brother from his cell in the process. As powerful as the Serpent King is, _we had him_. He couldn't have freed himself alone."

"I agree," said Reeve lightly, "someone had to help him out. What does that have to do with me?"

Rufus compressed his lips in irritation. "Are we really going to play this game, Reeve?"

"I can think of other games that would be more fun and less painful," sighed the engineer, "but I can't see you bringing a deck of cards to me."

Rufus lowered his gaze. "You aren't taking this seriously. You should. I've known you for most of my life, and I've come to learn how to tell when you aren't being completely honest with me. There is evidence that suggests your alibi isn't as stellar as you might think it was. I want the truth, Reeve. Save yourself a lot of pain and suffering, and just tell me what part you played in the Serpent King's escape...and why."

"No man is completely honest with his peers, and I don't care who he is," Reeve answered. "I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings that I won't share every aspect of my personal life with you, but an engineer has to have side hobbies."

"It's those 'side hobbies' that concern me," pressed Rufus. "Let's forget about the seraph's escape for a moment and talk about the materials not accounted for in Junon. You gave me a list of all required supplies to build my fleet, and yet you ran out despite the surplus I supplied for you. I'd like to know where all of that additional material went. What did you do with it, Reeve?"

The engineer shrugged. "Miscalculations happen, believe it or not...even for me. I underestimated the amount of raw materials I'd need to match your quota—which was a bit extravagant. When you also take into consideration the first generation models and repair costs as we perfected the design of those subs, you might find it less difficult to imagine those surplus materials vanishing more quickly than expected. You can check the reports, if you like. I imagine you already have, though."

"Yes, and on the surface, it would appear that you accounted for nearly all of those materials." Rufus' gaze bored into his. "And yet, I can't escape this feeling that you've covered something up."

"I can't tell you about something that doesn't exist," Reeve insisted calmly. He grimaced at the now soaked rag in his hand. "Can I have another rag, please? A bandage would be even better."

Rufus scowled at him, and before Reeve could brace for it, the president jumped up from his seat, drew his gun and fired. It took a moment for the hot pain of the slug entering his leg to sink in for Reeve, and he stared stupidly at the new hole in his pants, and the blood rapidly spreading from it.

"What in the _hell_ was that for?"

"For lying to me," said Rufus coldly, watching with dispassionate eyes as Reeve forgot about his head injury and pressed the bloody cloth against his shiny new bullet wound. "There's plenty more to come, if you insist on this trajectory of bullshit. You choose, Mr. Tuesti."

Fighting blinding pain now, Reeve looked up at him with a clenched jaw. "I'm not going to be worth balls to you if I bleed out in here. You know that, right?"

Rufus walked over to him and squatted down, smirking when Reeve flinched involuntarily. "I won't allow you to die, engineer, but I can arrange to make living very, very miserable for you...until you _wish_ you were dead. I can call Scarlet back in here to treat you to her tender mercies for a while."

"Shouldn't your whore be servicing you in other ways, President?" Reeve blurted the question through his teeth, trying to resist the urge to cry out as the younger man reached out and pressed down hard on the hand covering his bloody injury. The bullet wedged deeper into the bone, and Reeve tossed his head and hissed.

"Keep it up, Reeve. You're only hurting yourself with this belligerence, in the end. Be honest with me, and I can have your injuries seen to and get you cleaned up and fed."

"Or you'll just shoot me and be done with it."

Rufus smiled coldly at him, his handsome features utterly merciless. "There would be no point in my doing that. I still need my fleet, you see. If you cooperate, you might live for a very, very long time. You may even redeem yourself in my eyes and eventually buy your way out of prison with your actions. You're an intelligent man, Mr. Tuesti. Is it _really_ worth all of this pain?"

Reeve stared at him. Yes, he _was_ an intelligent man. He wasn't exceptionally strong, and he certainly wasn't brave the way soldiers on the front line were. On the account of limited bravery and street smarts, he gave into his pain and heaved an exasperated sigh.

"You want to know what I've been doing, Mr. President? Fine. Just remember that you asked for this."

Rufus leaned closer. "I'm listening. Speak up."

Reeve deliberately spoke in a softer voice. "For the past several months—no, wait...over a year, now. Yes, it's been that long. Funny, how time flies."

Rufus gave him an impatient look. "On with it. Enough stalling."

Reeve sighed in defeat. "Very well. I've allied myself with a demon...or rather, a fallen seraph that melded with a demon, except the demon was once the harbinger of the apocalypse and keeper of souls in the Lifestream. At least, that's how I understand it. At any rate, I decided I liked this demon/seraph's vision of a new world order much better than your tyrannical regime, and so I've been assisting him behind the scenes for all this time."

Rufus stared at him. "You're in league with a demon who used to be the guardian of the Lifestream, who somehow melded with a seraph."

Reeve thought on it, and he nodded. "That's the short version, yes. He isn't just the demon or the seraph, though. He's both."

"And this creature intends to bring down my kingdom?" Rufus lifted a brow.

"Not just yours. The Seraphim, too."

"Then he's after world domination."

Reeve shook his head. "No, world freedom would be the more accurate term for it. No reigning powers. Each territory would be independent of each other, free to choose their own leaders."

Rufus snorted. "Anarchy."

"That's the word he used, too." Reeve shrugged. "But the rest sounds good, to me."

The president studied him like he was a peculiar bug he'd found crawling on his desk. "Let's say I choose to believe this. What did this creature do to earn your loyalty? What did he offer, to make you turn from us, and what is his name?"

"I can't give you his name," Reeve answered, "but as for what he did to earn my loyalty, I simply prefer his vision over yours. The fact that he's amazing in bed certainly helped win me over, too."

Rufus stared at him for a few moments longer, and then he got to his feet abruptly. "I gave you a chance, Reeve. Guards! Open this door. Inform the Weapons Adjutant that she can have her way with the prisoner, but she isn't to kill him. Have his injuries seen to when she's finished, and I want every word he utters under her interrogation recorded and reported to me."

Reeve blearily watched him go, grimacing at the thought of what further punishment awaited him. "Well, I tried."

To do exactly _what_, he wasn't quite sure. The idea to come out with the truth came to him in a flash of confusion and suffering, but he hadn't really believed Rufus would take his story seriously. Sometimes he had more balls than sense, but right now he seriously wondered if he would make it out of this one alive.

* * *

"S-sir, we've heard nothing from Supervisor Tuesti since this afternoon," Phillips reported nervously. "H-has he been in contact with you since the ShinRa officials left?"

Vincent looked to the stained glass window across from his desk, backlit by the setting sun. He tapped his fingertips on the polished surface, eyes narrowed in thought behind the red-tinted lenses concealing them. He reached up with his other hand to remove the eyewear, and he looked up at the quivering young mechanic.

"Did anyone see Mr. Tuesti go anywhere with the president, or any of his people visiting from Midgar?"

"I'm n-not sure, Mr. Valentine. The last time any of us mechanics saw him, he was leaving the foundry to get cleaned up and take care of some paperwork. President Shinra and his blonde companion had already left, by then."

Vincent got out of his chair, and he went over to the window. "Keep looking for him."

"You...aren't going to try and ring him?" The mechanic pointed at the phone on Vincent's desk.

The demon half-turned to look at it, his eyes flashing amber and crimson in the dimming light. "It would do me no good. He isn't able to answer."

"How do you know that, sir?"

"You're asking a lot of questions, when you should be out searching for your supervisor."

The young man gulped and bowed hastily. "Yes sir. I'll get right on it!"

Vincent would have smirked at how rushed the boy's exit was, if he had a sense of humor to spare at the moment. Right now, he was trying to pinpoint the vague sense of _"Reeve"_ he felt from somewhere to the north. The glasses he held in his hand slowly began to buckle under the pressure as he closed his fingers around them. The lenses cracked, ruby shards of glass falling un-noticed to the floor as Vincent slowly crushed the glasses in his hand. His fingernails elongated into claws and there was a popping, rending sound as his wings began to manifest.

"What form of madness have you gotten yourself into now, engineer?" His voice was deeper, rumbling with age unimagined by mere mortals. The being inside of him was a part of him...they were one and the same, now. The thoughts he once had as a pure seraph were now and forever altered to fit the strange, hybrid creature he had become. He was both Chaos and Vincent, now, his penance for meddling with the Lifestream to try and save _her_.

Now someone else important to him was trying to follow his beloved's path to death, and he knew he couldn't have that. Reeve—the mad, brilliant fool—would not be allowed to leave him.

But first, he had to find out exactly where he was and what his circumstances were. One couldn't fight an enemy if one didn't know just who that enemy was. He looked down at the ruin of his glasses, opening his hand to examine the cuts in his pale palm. They closed as he observed them, the blood evaporating quickly as if it had never been.

"I'll never hear the end of this," predicted Vincent.

* * *

Scarlet left Reeve a bloody ruin as she walked out of the cell, and she nodded at the waiting medics and Hojo. "You'd best hurry. I don't think he'll last for long, after what I did to him."

"You might have left that to me," complained Hojo. "I have the medical knowledge to know just where to cut or prod without—"

"I know enough about all that, old man," she snapped, glaring at him as she removed her bloodied gloves. She slapped them against his chest, prompting him to grab at them, and she left them in his hands. "I know how much damage a body can take before it kills a man. Get your people in there to see to him, instead of arguing with me. I have a report to give."

Hojo scowled at her, and he motioned his assistants to go in first. He turned to see Hollander watching him from the end of the hallway, and he smirked. Lately, Hollander's enthusiasm in the goings-on of ShinRa had waned. As such, his workload had been cut back. The look in his eyes said that he knew it wasn't for his health.

"Poor fool," said Hojo to himself. "But that leaves less competition for me—though he wasn't much of a threat to my position as head of this department."

"Professor, we need to work fast," one of the medics advised. "This man is close to flat-lining!"

Hojo stopped muttering to himself and focused on the task at hand. If they lost Tuesti, his progress would be bumped back. He needed to stay in the president's good graces, in the event that they ever managed to secure another of the seraphim for study. From what he understood of the situation with Banora, that day might not be so far off.

* * *

Hollander watched the rival scientist go into the prisoner's cell, and he inwardly wondered if Hojo would save Reeve or experiment on him. The man's obsession with genetic splicing and alterations was getting more out of hand with each day. Hojo had been prepared to sacrifice as many lab assistants as it took to procure samples from the Serpent King when they had him in their custody. Rufus' order to try a less direct approach through threatening Lazard was the only thing keeping Hojo from trying.

What happened to Tuesti wasn't really his affair, however. He had more pressing concerns that involved a woman named Gillian and the son he'd fathered with her, years ago. He left the holding cell area and made his way to the President's office. Rude stood outside the door and he gave the professor a nod when he stopped to knock on it.

"Is he busy?" asked the scientist.

"I think Scarlet's giving him a report," answered Rude. Reno came strolling up at that moment, and he snickered.

"Yeah, she's giving him a 'report', all right." He shifted his package meaningfully. "I don't think the Prez is going to be available anytime soon."

Hollander looked at the redheaded Turk with distaste. "Perhaps one of you could give him a message for me, then."

Rude nodded, and Hollander went on. "I would like to be relocated to Banora. I may be able to assist with the situation there."

"Yeah?" Reno procured a cigarette from his blazer and he lit it. "How so, doc?" He blew smoke in Hollander's face, making the older man cough and wave a hand before his face.

"I understand there was a seraph there by the name of Angeal, before the invasion happened."

"That's right," answered Reno with a nod. "President Rufus met up with him, too. He was a really big guy, kind of like Rude, here. He wasn't around when our people took over there, though. Maybe the seraph split when he saw us coming."

"But they didn't 'see us coming'," reminded Hollander, "which is why the settlement and its neighboring village was taken with so few losses, correct?"

Rude nodded in agreement. "They didn't get a chance to put up much of a fight."

"Then the seraph could still be nearby," reasoned Hollander, "and if he is and our people capture him, it would be best for someone with some familiarity with their species to be there to ensure he remains tractable and in good condition."

Reno shrugged. "Couldn't prove it by me, professor. Alls I know is they're pretty sure they'll bag this Angeal character soon."

"I...see. And why do they think they'll soon have him in custody?"

"'Cause they've got his foster parents," answered Reno. "Some of the townsfolk ratted them out to avoid the noose. Heidegger's organizing a little trap. The president thinks that we can lure Hewley out from hiding if they make him believe they're going to kill his parents."

"But, you aren't going to kill them?"

"That depends on the seraph," answered Rude.

"It's kind of a shame, you know?" Reno took another drag of his cigarette. "If they catch this guy, he's going to end up on Hojo's table. I guess you want a crack at him first, eh, Hollander?"

"I...would like to examine...such a specimen before Hojo ruins him, yes. Please, excuse me, gentlemen."

"Hey, what about the message you wanted us to give the president?" Reno called.

"Never mind," answered Hollander. "I'll take care of my passage. Just inform him that I'm taking the next airship to the island to assist."

The partnered Turks glanced at each other. "Sure thing," Reno said.

* * *

Sephiroth listened attentively to his agent, his emerald gaze opaque on Angeal. The big man glanced questioningly at the Pharaoh beside him. He was not in any way interested in more festivities, but all three of his fellow seraphim insisted that it was important to maintain a front of normalcy, until they had all of the information. Genesis watched the whispered exchange between the Serpent king and his informant as well, sipping at the wine in his hand slowly.

"Calm, Anjiru," murmured the Pharaoh. "You'll have your answers soon enough."

Angeal glanced at him, knowing that Genesis couldn't offer a more comforting gesture in the presence of so many subjects. Even as his lover, he had to appear aloof and in complete control at all times. It was a relief to Angeal when a familiar, ebon-skinned woman approached to stand beside him. She knelt before the Pharaoh before taking her place beside Angeal, and she leaned over a bit to speak to the Banoran. Her long braid brushed against his broad shoulder as she murmured her thoughts to him.

"Remember my oath, friend. If it is allowed, you have me and my warrior maids at your call."

Angeal managed a tense smile for her. "Thank you, Kasmut. I won't forget the gesture, even if it never comes to that."

"Let us hope it doesn't," she agreed with a nod. She took a sip from her mug and watched with him as Sephiroth finished his audience with his informant.

When the black-clad man finished speaking with his king and bowed to him, Sephiroth waved him away and he leaned toward his advisor to speak into his ear. Lazard looked at him with a frown, then at Angeal. He said something back to him, and Sephiroth inclined his silver head in acknowledgement. The Serpent King glanced across the way at Zack, and upon seeing him occupied with hand-feeding Aerith grapes, he rolled his eyes and looked meaningfully at Genesis and Angeal, instead. He nodded toward the palace entryway, signaling that he wanted to speak to them inside.

"Asim, watch over things for me," Genesis muttered to the advisor on his right. "We have private matters to attend, and I don't wish to be disturbed."

The advisor bowed. "Yes, my Pharaoh. I'll see it done."

Genesis got up, and Angeal eagerly followed him. The latter scanned the courtyard and gestured Zack's way. "What about Zackary?"

Genesis sighed as he followed the gesture with his eyes. "He's welcome to join us, if he can stop being an incorrigible rogue long enough. At the moment, his mind is on his penis and how his companions might service it."

"Er..." Predictably, Angeal blushed. "I'm sure he'll put that aside, for this."

Genesis smirked at him. "You're adorably ignorant of Zack's true nature, but I'll humor you. Asim, please go and inform the Wolf Lord that we're conducting a meeting between leaders, and make sure the pup doesn't blurt it out loud."

"Yes, Highness."

* * *

"Okay, what was so important?" Zack complained as he entered the Pharaoh's chambers, stumbling a little with the influence of wine. "Did they find out something new about Banora? Gongaga's okay, isn't it?"

Genesis gave him a despairing look, and then he looked sidelong at Angeal and gestured as if presenting an illustration for his inspection. "Are you certain you want his council on this?"

"Hey, you're the one that said we have to keep partying to keep up appearances." Zack covered a burp. "'Scuse me. So, what's the word?" Cloud steadied him as he started to stagger again, and Zack draped an arm around the blond's shoulders and grinned at him. "I knew I made you my advisor for a reason, kiddo."

"Whatever," muttered Cloud, looking faintly embarrassed. "Just try to sober up, okay?"

Sephiroth spoke up, looking directly at Angeal. "I'm sorry to say that the most recent news from Banora is that they intend to execute your parents tomorrow, at sunset."

The room went utterly quiet. Angeal stared at the silver-haired seraph with disbelief he couldn't even attempt to mask, and Genesis lowered his gaze in somber thought. Zack spoke up before anyone, sobering abruptly.

"We can't let them do that."

Lazard sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "Even if you could mobilize a force large enough to take back Banora before the appointed execution time, you could never transport that many at such short notice."

Sephiroth nodded in agreement. "And that isn't all. They sent messengers to announce the news to Mideel. They're making sure everyone on those islands know that the Hewleys are going to die tomorrow."

"Hunh...pretty obvious trap," observed Cloud softly, frowning. He looked up at Angeal with sympathetic blue eyes. "Maybe they won't go through with it. It sounds like they're trying to flush you out, to me."

"The thought occurs to me too," Angeal said through stiff lips, "but even so, they're my parents. Maybe not by birth, but by rights. They raised me from infancy, and I'm not going to leave them to die."

"But why would they be so obvious?" Zack said. "I mean, that's sloppy. It's not like ShinRa's style at all."

"Maybe the point is to be so obvious it begs the question of intention," Genesis reasoned, watching Angeal with his kohl-lined, aqua gaze. "We're accustomed to ShinRa's underhanded techniques, not open announcements like this."

"It's a ransom," said Lazard with narrowed eyes. "They're hoping that Mr. Hewley will surrender himself to their custody, in exchange for the lives of his parents. I don't think this was done to provoke an attack at all, because they would know we'd be aware of the danger that could pose to the Hewleys and the other townsfolk. They don't know where Angeal is, so they hope word will reach him and he'll come."

"You sound pretty sure of that," Zack said.

"I know how Rufus thinks," answered Lazard with a nod. He removed his glasses and he took a soft cloth out of his shirt pocket to polish the lenses. "He would never do something this openly without a contingency plan. I think this is a lure, as Cloud suggested, but they're going to try to bargain with Angeal first. They likely have methods to capture him by force, if they can't gain his cooperation."

Lazard sighed and he looked at Angeal as he replaced his glasses on his face again. His aristocratic features bore an expression of faint regret on them. "I wish I could offer you something more helpful than my speculation. I could be completely wrong, but I don't think I am. I wouldn't be surprised if he knows there are spies watching Banora, and he's counting on them to get word back to you."

"Then I'd best not disappoint him." Angeal looked at Genesis expectantly. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Genesis. Please, don't try to stop me."

"I wasn't going to." Genesis narrowed his eyes his gaze distant and thoughtful. "You should go. Take one of my airships...or better yet, I think I can get us there even sooner."

Zack and Angeal exchanged looks with each other. "Us?" they both repeated together.

Genesis' gaze focused again, and he looked at his lover. "Did you think I would allow you to present yourself as their sacrificial bull? I know you would never forgive me if I stopped you, but I can't allow you to give yourself up, either."

"Genesis," Sephiroth said in a warning tone, his wing coming out slowly and fanning the air.

"I know," said the Pharaoh, evidently guessing what his fellow seraph was thinking. "Presenting two targets for them to capture would be bad."

"Especially considering your kingdom is the most powerful one," Zack said, siding with Sephiroth. "Don't look at me like that, Sephiroth...you know it's true. Gen's got the military might, you've got the assassins and I've got the diplomatic skills."

All sense of humor had vanished from the Wolf Lord, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest and stared at Genesis with serious, blue-violet eyes. "It's bad enough that Angeal is in this situation and I wouldn't dream of holding him back if it could save his folks, but if we lose you too, it could bring down Menephera _and_ Banora. I won't be able to hold them off, and Sephiroth can only do so much. We'll end up hiding in his temple city and I sure as shit don't want that."

"Are you finished with your doom-saying?" Genesis regarded them all with an arched brow.

Zack deflated and shrugged. "I guess I've said what I need to say, yeah."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," answered the Pharaoh, "but I have no intention of becoming a martyr or an experiment for the humans. I can get Angeal and myself there fast, while my military forces mobilize and set out from here. I will keep watch over the situation until they arrive, and when they do, we'll take back Banora and Angeal with it."

"And if you get discovered?" Lazard asked respectfully.

Genesis reached up to remove his ornate mask, revealing his features with a cocky smirk. "Then they're going to wish they'd remained ignorant of my presence."

Sephiroth sighed. "If they could capture me, they could capture you."

"Anything is possible," granted Genesis calmly, "but not likely. We know exactly what their purpose is, now. I have ways of staying safely hidden from human detection, when I need to."

"And I have ways of slicing them in two before they even know they've been cut," argued the Serpent King, "and yet they caught me."

"You let them catch you," corrected Genesis with a glance at Lazard. "To save him."

"And you'll let them capture you, if you think it will save Angeal," Zack said with a grimace, "no matter how hard you try to deny it. So he's going to save his parents, and you're going to save him, and we'll end up going to save both of you—"

"No we won't," interrupted Sephiroth coldly. "If they do this, they're on their own."

Zack blinked at him. "You don't mean that."

The serpentine gaze didn't waver, remaining locked on Genesis. "But I do. Someone needs to remain behind to protect our territory. We are all that remains of our kind, Zackary. There's a good reason behind our decision to spread out, if you recall. We can't lump together in one location and present an easier target for them to drive us into extinction."

Zack sighed. "So this is about preserving your own skin, huh?"

"Our race," corrected Sephiroth. "Or our species, if you want to be more exact."

Zack pointed at Angeal. "Well, _he_ didn't even know he was one of us. Maybe we're not the last after all. Ever think of that, genius?"

Sephiroth and Genesis both looked at Angeal, who shrugged. "He makes a good point."

"And besides that, if you're so worried about the future of our kind, maybe you ought to get busy with the baby making, like we're trying to do."

Now all of them stared at him. "Zackary," Genesis said, "It isn't possible for us to have children."

"Sure it is," argued the brunet. "You've just got to get with a girl a few times. I know you guys prefer something a little meatier, but—"

"Enough," Sephiroth snapped. "This ridiculous conversation gets us nowhere. Even if we were to couple with females, the chances of offspring resulting from it are so slim it's negligible."

"Doesn't mean we can't still try," Zack sighed. "But what I'm really trying to get at here is we don't _know_ that we're the last seraphim...not really. And what if we are? Maybe our time is just over. All I know is my friend is about to walk into enemy hands and you guys want me to hide here while he does it."

Sephiroth didn't respond to that, appearing to struggle inwardly in his subtle manner. Genesis thought it over, and he spoke up again after a few moments.

"Sephiroth is right. Whether our time on Gaia is meant to be coming to an end or not, we still have responsibilities to our people. Zackary, return to Gongaga and make sure it's fortified. Sephiroth should return to his temple and do the same. My advisors will handle matters for me while I'm away. ShinRa can't possibly generate a large enough force quickly enough to sack my lands while I'm away, even if they somehow find out I've gone. The first threat we're likely to face on this continent would be from Wutai, and Zackary seems to believe Tseng wouldn't move in without fair warning."

"I'm _sure_ he wouldn't," insisted Zack. "He's got his own problems to worry about, anyhow."

"But the president can be very persuasive," argued Lazard, "especially if he convinces Tseng that the freedom of Wutai could be compromised if Seraphim influence on this continent grows any stronger. Tseng is still a ruler, after all, and he has a nation to look after."

"Damn, I'm tired of politics," sighed Zack. "Look, even if Rufus manages to scare Tseng into action, I still don't believe he'd just start invading out of the blue. I'm not saying I trust the guy exactly, but he and I have mutual respect for each other."

"Then we'd best leave the dealings with Wutai to you," said Genesis, "and hope that you're right. In the meantime, look to securing your borders. I'll keep in touch on our progress."

Sephiroth's wing drew in tight, folding close to his body. "You really intend to do this?"

Genesis glanced at Angeal, who was now speaking with Zack and Cloud. "Not to give you another reason to be smug, but you were right. Wouldn't you do this in my place?"

Sephiroth's gaze flicked to his blond advisor, who had joined the discussion with the Banoran, Zack and Cloud. "Then good luck, Genesis."

* * *

He thought that the worst pain he'd ever felt was when he'd had an abscessed tooth and took a bite of ice cream. Now, Reeve wished he had that pain back, and he would have happily eaten a whole gallon of ice cream, if it would mean trading _that_ kind of pain for the kind he was in, now. His balls were swollen from the kicking they'd received, and he'd already puked all over the examination table and the medics once they revived him. Hojo didn't even bother giving him anesthetic before working on him, and the agony of having his broken fingers set made the engineer bite halfway through his own tongue.

Now, after being tortured again in the name of "healing", he lay curled on his side on the bunk. They'd used potions to heal the worst of his injuries, but then the queen bitch came in again and without any warning at all, drove her heeled foot into his nuts. Reeve cupped them with one hand and he clutched the thin pillow with the other, breathing through clenched teeth. He refused to give her the satisfaction of a scream, but he couldn't deny the quaking fear that shook him when she departed his cell with the promise of more torture in the morning.

He let go of his pillow and spread his shaking fingers. They were straight again, but the nails were gone. The pain of his torture remained even after the medics had seen to him and stopped the bleeding, but that could just be from the injection Hojo gave to him. It felt like fire shooting through his veins, burning up his insides until he thought he might shit flames.

"Okay," he reasoned to himself, "I'm probably screwed either way. Vincent's going to rip my head off if he finds out I told them about his plans and they're going to kill me eventually, even if they think I'm spouting off lies."

One thing was for sure; he didn't want to endure another torture session with Scarlet. He shuddered to think of what else she might start pulling off, now that she'd removed his finger and toenails. He began to look around for things he might be able to use, either to escape, to kill Scarlet, or even kill himself before she could get at him again.

It occurred to him that there were springs in his thin mattress.

* * *

"Ready the Mako cannon."

Wrench looked up from the monitor with wide eyes. "Pardon?"

"I said for you to ready the Mako cannon," Vincent repeated in a low, warning voice.

Wrench looked at one of the nearby techs. "Do you have a target in mind, Mr. Valentine?"

"Kalm," answered the demon. His wings were out, and they fanned the air impatiently. His black, flowing hair fell free around his face and over his shoulders. "We're going to give ShinRa a warning."

"Then...we're waging open war on them?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes at the map displayed on the flickering screen overhead. "That depends on their answer. I need a cameraman, right away. I want to personally issue this warning to our friends at ShinRa, and I have other matters to attend as well."

"What kind of other matters?" Wedge asked nervously.

"Retrieving my chief engineer. You have your instructions. Do as you're told."

The two humans looked at each other with wide-eyed dread.

* * *

-To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 18

* * *

The copper dome split open atop the tower looming over the harbor. There was a horrible grinding noise as something began to rise on a platform from within. Wheels turned, electricity flickered and another panel opened to reveal the barrel of an enormous cannon. The object lifted and began to turn, rotating to face the north. Standing on the catwalk near the monstrosity of engineering was a dark figure, watching impassively with cold eyes of amber and red. The wind blew his raven hair across his pale, sculpted face and to the workers frantically operating the machinery, he looked like he was carved from stone. A pair of webbed, bat-like wings rose from his back, looking out of place with his fashionable suit.

"Sir," announced one of the cannon operators calling out over the wind and the noise as he approached the dark figure on the catwalk, "We're making final adjustments now. Are you _sure_ you want to fire on Kalm?"

"When I give the word, yes," answered the demonic figure. "We'll give them a chance to evacuate, of course, but President Shinra needs to understand the peril he faces, if he attempts to move in on us or refuse my demands."

The worker grimaced and nodded, unwilling or too afraid to argue with him. "The camera crew is ready for you, Mr. Valentine."

Vincent's mouth curved up at the corner, a subtle expression of smug confidence. "Good. It's time I make my presence known."

* * *

"Good morning, Reeve."

The engineer looked up with dread as his prison door opened and the hated blonde woman stepped in. Today she was wearing a pair of thigh-high boots and a long, loose skirt with slits up both sides. The red and black bodice she wore as a compliment to the red skirt somewhat resembled a corset. Her hair was piled into the usual elegant bun, and her ruby lips smiled sardonically as she put her hands on her hips and watched him.

"Are you ready for your interrogation?"

Reeve sat up slowly on his bunk. His hands curled over the mattress as he dangled his legs over the side of the bunk. "What are you supposed to be, my mistress? Sorry toots, I'm not into you."

She leaned over him and she smiled coldly when he flinched. She reached out and grasped his jaw in her hand, squeezing it hard. "I don't dress to impress the likes of _you_ Tuesti. Don't flatter yourself." She finished with a slap that stung his cheek and made his ears ring. "We're going to have a lot of fun this morning, you and I. They'll be bringing the instruments in shortly."

She dropped the bag she was carrying in her other hand to the floor, and she opened it to retrieve a pair of gloves. As he watched, she stretched the latex material over her hands, looking at him sidelong as she did so. "Of course, Rufus doesn't want me to do _too_ much damage. If you start talking, I may even hold back. It all depends on whether the information is good enough. So, Reeve..."

He flinched involuntarily again as she released the edge of the glove with a snap, and she leaned over him again with a predatory smile. "Where should we start, today? I'll even let you pick. I'm going to try hot pokers on you, this time. It's old fashioned, I know, but some things just never go out of style."

"Unlike that hair color of yours," muttered Reeve, despite the quaking terror he was starting to feel. He didn't want to die, but he sure as spit didn't want to die badly. Scarlet hated him as much as he hated her, and there was no guarantee that she would stay her hand and keep him alive. What's more, did he really _want_ to survive the things she would do to him? He imagined he wouldn't escape with his manhood intact, if she had her way. There was that, and then there was Hojo.

"What does Hojo plan to do with me?" Reeve asked.

Scarlet frowned. "That creepy old coot? What makes you think he has the slightest interest in you?"

"Has he heard the story I told the President?" pressed Reeve.

She raised a brow and smirked. "You mean the ridiculous fairy tale about the demon/seraph hybrid you claim to be working for? Yes, word got out quickly about that. Congratulations, Tuesti, you're now a laughingstock on top of being a spineless traitor. You're building quite the image for yourself."

Reeve's right hand clenched, but he didn't move, otherwise. "Spineless, am I? Let me tell you something, sister, it takes balls to go against an organization like ShinRa inc. You've at least got to give me some credit there."

Scarlet shrugged with grudging agreement. "I suppose I can give you that. It doesn't take away the fact that you are utterly without loyalty—just as I always suspected. You have _no_ idea how much I'm going to enjoy—"

Reeve saw his chance and he took it. While Scarlet was busy patting herself on the back for "being right about him", he made a sudden move. She gasped in shock when he plowed into her and knocked her to the floor. He'd briefly considered using the trick he'd used on Miss Lockhart to distract her, but knowing Scarlet, she would have probably enjoyed a sudden titty grope—even from a man she loathed.

He soon discovered that the bitch was surprisingly strong. Reeve yelled in protest when she head-butted him, but his life depended on holding onto her and he made a grab for her wrist as she tried to reach for the bag lying on the floor. She attempted to kick him and he squirmed aside to protect his jewels, and then he treated her to the same abuse she'd given him. He grinned in spite of himself when he felt his forehead collide with her nose and heard a crunch.

"Looks like you're going to need some surgery to fix that nose, sweetheart." He pressed his makeshift weapon against her jugular just as she started to reach for the gun holstered at her thigh. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

She felt the cold, sharp press of the twisted bedspring wires against her throat and she went still, glaring at him. "Where do you think you're going to go, Reeve? If you're thinking of switching clothes with me, I should warn you that you'd never pull it off, even if you were clean shaven."

"Trust me, I've got no interest in trying to pass myself off as you," he muttered. "I'd have to strip you to do that and there isn't enough bleach in the world to flush my eyes out after a sight like that. Get up." He reached down and took the pistol she'd been trying to get at a moment ago, and after checking it, he pointed it at her and got painfully to his feet.

Scarlet climbed to her feet, holding her hands out. "You've got nowhere to go," she reminded again. "This is pointless."

"That depends on if the people you work with hate you as much as I do," he said. "Put your wrists behind your back and turn around. If you make one wrong move, your brains are going to be all over this room—what little you have in that bleached skull of yours, anyhow."

She glared at him, before turning around as ordered and presenting her back to him. Reeve stuck his bare foot out to grasp the handles of the bag with his toes and he pulled it over to him carefully. He sighed in relief when he found cuffs inside, amongst other less pleasant things. He quickly secured them on her wrists and he gingerly checked her for other hidden weapons, not enjoying the search in the least. There were plenty of sharp things in her little goody bag, as well as a pair of brass knuckles, a syringe in a case and what appeared to be a barbeque fork.

Reeve whistled softly. "Wow, looks like you really did have interesting plans for me today." He shuddered involuntarily, and he decided he would rather die than allow her to use those or any other instruments of torture on him, today. "I'm afraid I can't stick around for it, and neither can you. Let's go."

* * *

The knock on his office door distracted Rufus from his calculations, and he sighed with annoyance. "What is it?"

"It's sort of an emergency, Sir," Reno's voice said from the other side.

Rufus put his pen aside and compressed his lips with irritation. "Then come in and tell me what the problem is."

The door opened, and Reno poked his wild, red head in. "It's Tuesti. He's kind of...gone."

Rufus stared at him. "What doe you mean, 'he's gone'?"

"Well, word is he overpowered Scarlet when she went in to interrogate him a little while ago, and he used her as a meat shield to get out of the prison ward. He's somewhere in the building still, but they haven't had much luck finding him."

Rufus pushed his fingers through his hair, and he inadvertently pulled a few strands out. "Fucking...this is..._how_? I just want to know _how_!"

Reno shrugged uncomfortably, his blue-green eyes going to the gun Rufus had drawn. "Dunno, boss. We've got people on it and I'm about to hit the sewers with Rude, in case he uses the duct system to access them."

Rufus' mouth worked, and his face reddened with anger and humiliation. "He was tortured within an inch of his life! He was in a bare cell! What in the _hell_ could he have possibly used against Scarlet?"

Reno looked distinctly uncomfortable, and the red crescent tattoos on his cheeks stretched a little as he grimaced. "The wardens say he made some kind of poking weapon from a mattress spring. My guess is he threatened her with that before he got her gun. She's still with him; he's gonna need her if he plans on having any hope in hell of making it out of here alive."

Rufus swore under his breath again, and he got out of his office chair and kicked it over violently away. It skittered over the hardwood floor and tipped over with a crash. The president holstered his gun, reminding himself that shooting one of his best Turks wasn't the way to handle this.

"What do you want us to do if we find them, boss?" Reno was watching him expectantly, having draw his broad-range phone out of his blazer. "Rude's gonna be below ground soon and I might not be able to reach him, so we need to know what your orders are."

Rufus narrowed his eyes at him. "Do I really need to tell you?"

Reno shrugged. "Well, getting Reeve back is a given. I mean, what do you want us to do about Scarlet? He's using her as a hostage, yo. He could breeze on right out of here and nab a transport vehicle, if we don't get her out of his hands."

Rufus considered the problem.

* * *

"This won't be the end of this," Scarlet said to her captor as they made it out of the Headquarters building and onto the street. Reeve had taken her through little nooks and crannies in the building that she'd never even known were there. She had forgotten that he knew the inner workings of Midgar better than anyone. He'd helped design it, after all.

"I'm sure it won't be," Reeve agreed in a low voice, "now shut up, before I shove my remaining sock in your mouth."

The threat was enough to quiet her. The last thing she needed right now was Reeve's foot funk in her mouth. He dragged her over to an alley, looking around carefully. He shoved her to the ground inside the alley and he told her not to move as he started to remove a manhole. She debated her chances of kicking him in the head and stunning him long enough to get away, but she heard the sound of someone approaching and she realized she may not have to. Looking out from the alley, Scarlet saw a familiar brunet Turk girl, in the company of two other young Turks.

"_Here!_" shouted Scarlet, _"We're right here!"_

Reeve looked up in alarm at the cry, and he quickly grabbed the blonde woman before she could run out to meet the Turks. "Damn you, woman...I knew I should have used that sock," he growled as he took her in a headlock and pressed the pistol against her right temple.

"Too late," she gasped in satisfaction as Cissnei and the other Turks ran to the alley they were in. "You're not going anywhere, Reeve."

"Mr. Tuesti, put the weapon down," Cissnei called out, drawing her own pistol. "I don't want to hurt you, but I have orders!"

Reeve sighed. "I'm sure you do, lass. I can't let you take me, though. It seems we're in a bind, here."

One of the male Turks with Cissnei started to take a step, and Reeve pressed the barrel of the firearm harder against Scarlet's temple, making her wince. "I'm not kidding, people," warned the engineer. "I _will_ kill her, and plenty of people might thank me for it."

"I'm sure they would, Mr. Tuesti," agreed Cissnei, "but if you kill her, you have nothing to bargain with. I don't think you'll do it."

Scarlet nearly told the girl to shut the hell up and stop goading him, but Cissnei was very much aware of the mutual hatred between the two of them. "She's right, Tuesti. Kill me and you have no hope at all."

"Then perhaps they should back off," suggested Reeve. He cussed when he inadvertently stepped on a piece of broken glass with his bare foot. "Goddamn it, as if I haven't shed enough blood!"

"Reeve, just let her go," coaxed Cissnei, gesturing at her companions to back off. "The president needs you. He isn't going to kill you. If you'll just come with us, I promise, I'll do whatever I can to make sure you're treated better."

"My dear, I truly wish I could believe you," sighed Reeve regretfully, "but as sweet as you are, I know you're still a Turk. Even if you're sincere, you don't have the influence or authority to keep that promise to me."

"Maybe not, but I'm engaged to someone that does," insisted the young woman. "I'll talk to Reno for you. I can convince him to speak to the president for me on your behalf."

Scarlet laughed, and it was an ugly sound of contempt. "_Reno_? Maybe you should turn that pistol on yourself, Reeve. Any advice Reno gives the president isn't likely to be good for your health, even if his intentions are good."

"Shut up," snapped the engineer. To Cissnei, he said: "I would like to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can't take that chance. The president wants me to tell him information I don't have, and they've already pulled out all of my nails and injected some kind of mystery formula into me. I'll take my chances."

Cissnei shook her head, her soft brown eyes regretful. "I can't let you go, Sir."

"Well, you're going to have to, if you don't want me to kill your Weapons adjutant."

Cissnei raised her pistol and fired it smoothly, and the next thing Scarlet felt was a bullet boring into her head, followed by a sharp pain and after that, oblivion.

* * *

Reeve stared at the body of the woman he'd been using as his hostage as it slid to the ground, twitching a bit in its death throes. He looked up from Scarlet to the Turks, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.

"You _shot_ her!"

Cissnei nodded at her companions, and they started forward. "You're more important than she was, Mr. Tuesti. Don't look so surprised; you were going to shoot her too."

"No, I was going to drag her out of the city with me and dump her somewhere on the road out of here!" Reeve looked down at the body again, but upon realizing they were closing in on him, he pointed his stolen pistol at each of them in turn. "Keep your distance!"

Cissnei looked regretful. "We can't. I'm sorry. You have to come with us, now."

Reeve shook his head. "You'll have to kill me."

"Don't be stupid," called out another voice from the manhole Reeve had been prepared to disappear into. Reno climbed out with a grunt, followed by his tall, bald partner. Rude brushed his hands against his suit with a displeased frown, looking none too happy about the mystery smudges on it.

"With her out of the way," Reno nodded at Scarlet, "you've really only got Hojo to worry about. Well, him and _us_, but I can promise ya we won't go as hard on you as Scarlet did. You don't even want to let Hojo have a shot at you."

"He already has," Reeve said. He shut his eyes and dropped the gun when Cissnei's companions closed the distance. "You'd be doing me a favor if you shot me the way you just shot Scarlet, Cissnei."

Cissnei looked at Reno almost pleadingly, and the redhead shook his head. "Sorry doll, we can't just let him go. Look, Tuesti, why don't you just tell the President what he wants to know? All he really wants is for you to keep making his fleet, so he can deal with the threat of the Serpent King. You shouldn't have helped him get away in the first place."

"I had my reasons," insisted Reeve, "and I'm not stupid enough to believe Rufus will keep me around, once the fleet is finished."

Reno sucked his teeth and exchanged a look with his partner. "So you're admitting you helped spring the seraph?"

"N-no...well, yes. Dammit Reno, you have no idea what we're really dealing with."

Reno drew the device he carried around with him, and Reeve recoiled when he rested the baton on his shoulder and stared at him coldly. "Bat-winged boogey-men. I heard. I just don't believe it. How about you and I have a little private talk, once we get you back inside? You've seen what this rod can do. Want a demonstration?"

"That won't be necessary," assured Reeve, "and if there were anything else to tell you, I would have done it by now."

Reno stared into his eyes curiously, and then he nodded slowly. "Ya know, I believe you when you say you'd rather die than be tortured anymore. Maybe this story you've been telling is real to you, and you're just out of your fucking mind and can't tell reality from fantasy anymore."

"Then have me psycho analyzed," pressed Reeve.

Reno smirked. "That ain't up to me." He looked at the others. "Cuff him and get him back to his cell. Make sure they get rid of the cots in there, too. You can't leave this guy with anything he could use to invent a weapon or a lockpick."

"Yes sir," answered the younger Turks. They started to lead Reeve away, ignoring his protests.

* * *

"I don't like this," Cissnei said to Reno as he and Rude stepped up beside her. She watched them take the engineer away with a feeling of dread.

Reno put an arm around her. "You've got to put that soft heart of yours on the back burner, Cissnei. The guy's a traitor."

"But you don't know that," she insisted, "not really! There was some evidence, but nothing solid!"

"He confessed," reminded Rude.

"Yeah, after being beaten and tortured!" Cissnei rounded on them both, looking up at them imploringly. "Did you see his hands? Reeve isn't trained like we are. After being put through something like that, most normal people would make something up just to get the pain to stop."

Rude frowned. "She's got a pretty good point, Red."

"Hmm." Reno scratched his chin, his eyes narrowing on the prisoner as he was forcibly dragged back into the building. Reeve was putting up a good struggle. "I've gotta admit, I'm impressed that the guy managed to get as far as he did."

"He might have made it all the way to the gates," agreed Cissnei, "if Scarlet had kept her mouth shut." She looked down at the body of the blonde woman with a frown.

"You sound like you resent her for calling out to you," Reno said.

"I just plain didn't like her," admitted Cissnei, "but I wish I hadn't had to shoot her."

"You didn't," Reno said.

Cissnei frowned. "What?"

"Hand over your gun and take mine," Reno ordered.

"Why?"

Reno rolled his eyes. "To save you the trouble of filing a fucking report," he said. "Scarlet might have been a cunt, but she was an executive officer of the military and the president is going to want a full report. Besides, I'm pretty sure they had a thing going on. He won't be happy about her death, even if he did order us to prioritize Tuesti's capture over saving her life."

"You don't have to do that," Cissnei said, offering a weak smile.

Reno took her gun and handed his own over, and then he gave her a quick smooch on the lips. "It's the least I can do, babe. I may not be able to help Reeve the way you want, so I'll take responsibility for the shot and make sure the others back me up on it."

"Get a room, you two," muttered Rude when she kissed him back.

* * *

"Well, If I wasn't screwed before, I am now for sure." Reeve sat against the corner of his now bare cell, with nothing but a thin blanket to comfort him. He supposed he could try to make some kind of lariat out of the blanket and try to hang himself before they came back to finish the torture job Scarlet was meant to do. He'd come _so close_ to escaping. If he could have made it to the next settlement and found a phone, he could have called Vincent and...what?

"Tell him I gave away his secret and confessed to working with him?" muttered the engineer into the arms folded over his knees. "Brilliant. _'Hey Vincent, I just told Rufus Shinra your plans. You can come and rip my spine out, now.'_ Yes, that would have made things so much better."

Reeve sighed and leaned his head back against the cold tile wall, shutting his eyes. Yes indeed, he'd really stepped in it, this time. The only silver lining around this cloud was Scarlet's untimely and unexpected demise at Cissnei's hands. If he weren't so thoroughly mired in shit himself, Reeve might have mustered a smile over that. As it was, he was counting the minutes, his body tense with anticipation and dread as he waited for them to come questioning him again.

He wasn't comforted when Reno of the Turks finally entered his cell, holding his EMR in one hand.

* * *

"We've got two ways we can do this," Reno informed him, slapping his open palm with the electromagnetic baton he held. "I'll leave it up to you to decide which. Get up."

Reeve thought about being petulant and staying curled up as he was, but he knew Reno wasn't someone to mess with. He struggled to his feet on shaking legs, and he tried to face him with some dignity. Seeing how much trouble he was having, Reno sighed and approached him.

"Take it easy," he muttered when Reeve flinched. "I'm not gonna hurt you...yet. I'm just helping you up." He propped Reeve against the wall, and he clicked his baton to make electricity dance along the length of it.

"I don't want to use this on ya, to be totally honest," said the redhead, "but I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place, myself."

"You don't have to use it," Reeve insisted. "Look, I've already told everything there is to tell. I know it sounds crazy, but it was all the truth!"

Reno smirked. "You and I both know you can lie through your teeth without breaking a sweat, Tuesti. Now, maybe some of what you told the Prez was the truth, but I think there's a lot more to it than that." Reno's voice dropped to a whisper. "Anyhow, I've got something _else_ to talk to you about."

Reeve frowned in confusion, his cowed act dropping. He spoke in a low murmur. "Like what?"

Reno glanced around, looking up at the security camera in the corner of the room. "Funny how they didn't come charging in here right away, when you took Scarlet hostage. Maybe that's because someone fucked with the wiring."

"I did," answered Reeve. "Now, what were you going to say?"

"Who did you see shoot Scarlet?"

"Cissnei."

The EMR was suddenly pushed hard against his throat, choking him. "Wrong answer."

"Then tell me what the _right_ answer is," gagged the engineer. "Or give me some cue cards!"

"I shot Scarlet, not Cissnei."

The pressure on his throat eased up, and Reeve stared at the Turk. "Can I just ask why you want me to say that? Oh. Never mind."

Reno looked away. "Don't get all excited. It just makes things less complicated. Chances are, nobody would take your word for it if you said otherwise, but Cissnei likes you and she wants me to try and cut you a break. She's pretty upset about what Blondie Bitch did to ya, so I'm doing what I can to cut down on her stress."

"That's really chivalrous of you," complimented Reeve.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Okay." Reeve did his best not to look amused. "But I have a question for you, now. What's in it for me? Even if they don't believe a word I say, they might start asking her questions if I tell them you falsified your report to protect your girlfriend."

Reno narrowed his eyes at him. "The lady's doing everything she can to make things easier on you, and _this_ is how you pay her back?"

"I like Cissnei," Reeve assured, spreading his hands, "but my life is on the line, here. I know you wouldn't have told me to do this if you didn't have something to throw in to sweeten the deal, Reno."

The redhead blew a sigh and pulled away. "Give me a contact and I'll send the word out for ya."

Reeve tilted his head. "As in, you'll send word to one of my associates in Junon?"

"Yeah. I might even look the other way if they come to bust you out, man. There's more going on behind the scenes than President Shinra knows, and the Turks have our own interests, too."

"And you're not worried about telling me this?" Reeve's brows furrowed.

Reno grinned at him. "Shit, no. People think you're out of your head."

"But you're worried about me saying Cissnei shot Scarlet," reasoned the engineer.

"Because like you said, it could raise questions and I don't want her stressing anymore than she already is." Reno averted his eyes again.

"Wow, you are acting really, really weird," mused Reeve. "You're usually pretty confident that the ladies in your department can take care of themselves, even sweet little Cissnei. What changed?"

"None of your fucking business, that's what," Reno snapped. "Do we have a deal, or not?"

"In the interest of survival, I'd say yes, we've got a deal." Reeve winced as he stuck his hand out and Reno shook it. Though healed, the empty nail beds on the tips of his fingers were tender and the Turk's grip hurt.

"Then give me the contact number and I'll see what I can do for ya. I'll report that you just kept babbling the same shit about the demon when I interrogated you."

"I owe you one," sighed Reeve, not staging his relief in the slightest.

"Yeah, you do...especially if anyone finds out about—"

Reno's phone began to buzz suddenly, and at the same time, the cell door was unlocked from the other side and one of the guards stuck his head in. "You'd better get to the executive tower fast," he said to Reno, "Something's going on in Junon."

Reno frowned and dug his phone out of pocket. He nearly dropped the clunky thing, and he cursed. He brought it to his ear and he flipped a switch to answer it. "Reno, here. Yeah, partner, what's happening?"

Reno's gaze slid to Reeve, and his cinnamon brows furrowed as his gaze sharpened. "You're shitting me."

"What is it?" asked Reeve.

Reno shushed him and spoke into the mouthpiece of his phone. "And this is being broadcasted _right now_? Huh. I'll be right up. I've got to see this shit."

Reeve watched in perplexity as the Turk ended his call and put his phone back into his inner jacket pocket. "I know it's probably none of my business right now, but what—"

"There's a long-range broadcast interfering with every channel in Midgar," interrupted Reno, "and guess what? Seems like your imaginary friend is the star. I guess you were telling the truth after all, Tuesti."

Reeve paled. "He...he's broadcasting? What is he saying?"

"Do I look like a fucking television to you? I don't know. I'll let you know later, after I check it out."

"Wait," Reeve called as the redhead started to go. "What about our deal?"

"Later," Reno said over his shoulder. "I've got to see this and the president's probably going to want a meeting. Just stay put!"

Reeve sighed as the cell door slammed shut, leaving him alone in the bare room again. "'_stay put_', he says. That's a laugh riot."

* * *

_"My given name isn't important,"_ the being was saying over the crackling broadcast. Between snowy flickers on the screen, the moments of clarity revealed what could have been mistaken for a handsome, pale man with long, raven hair and aristocratic features. His eyes, however, were clearly inhuman in nature. One of them was ruby red in coloring, and the other was a tawny yellow. Both glowed in the manner of a seraph's eyes, intense in a predatory way that drew shivers to those watching.

_"You may refer to me as the Harbinger,"_ continued the being. He stood up from whatever he was sitting on, and the camera zoomed out to reveal the shadow of great, black wings rising up behind him.

"Oh, fuck," Reno blurted, staring.

Beside him, his partner and some of the other Turks also voiced exclamations of surprise, but Rufus Shinra was staunchly composed as he watched the broadcast with them. The screen flickered for a moment, and when it cleared again, they could see that the wings weren't feathered.

"Those aren't Seraphim wings," observed Palmer, wringing his hands.

"No, they aren't," agreed Rufus with narrowed eyes. "Be quiet, it's speaking again."

_"I intend to bring this world into a new age, where nations are free to choose their leaders without the hand of tyrants guiding them. First, however, I must issue a warning to those in power to the north. You have something of mine, and I desire it returned to me, undamaged."_

"H-he was telling the truth," Cissnei said. "This is just what Reeve said!"

"Be _quiet_," hissed Rufus, "or leave the room, I don't care which!"

Cissnei lapsed into silence, biting her lip.

_"President Shinra, I trust you're watching this. I'm going to give you one day to evacuate the town of Kalm, northeast of your city. During that time, I expect you to have the engineer Reeve Tuesti transported to the farm near the mountain range, south of Midgar. My people will collect him there. When the allotted time frame is up, I'm going to demonstrate what you face, if you resist us. Fail to send my engineer back to me, and Midgar will be next. When this broadcast ends, you will have twenty-four hours to act. If you send any troops to try and attack Junon, we will immediately fire upon them and your capitol."_

The broadcast ended, and the screen flickered back to the regular news.

"Wait a minute," Reno muttered, "So he's giving us a day to send Tuesti to him, but he plans to...uh...whatever he's going to do...to Kalm anyway?"

"He said it was a demonstration, Red," said Rude. "Sounds like he wants to show us he means business."

Rufus was glaring at the television as if it had personally insulted him. "We don't give in to terrorists."

"Uh, boss," Reno said uncomfortably, "that broadcast just proved Reeve was telling the truth. That thing on the screen matched the description, right? Did he tell you what kind of weapon this demon thing has that's supposed to have us all quaking in our boots?"

"No." Rufus frowned, recalling the strange explosion reported off the coast of Junon, "but it must be powerful. I don't think a submarine exploded, after all."

"What should we do?" Palmer asked, his balding head shiny with sweat.

"Nothing."

When everyone turned to stare at him, Rufus looked them each in the eye, in turn. "For all we know, this was some form of camera trick. I'm not releasing the only man that knows how to build my fleet, and I'm not giving into threats with no proof of—"

"But he's going to give us proof!" Palmer was pale, looking like a doughy, sweaty blob to Rufus. "He-he said he was going to fire on Kalm!"

"Sir, I think we should at least consider evacuating Kalm town," offered Rufus' new military advisor, hastily promoted to take Scarlet's place. "This creature—whatever it is—obviously believes it has something powerful at its disposal, and if it _isn't_ just a ruse, a lot of civilians are going to die."

Rufus frowned, unable to escape the truth of it. He looked at the young man who had taken Scarlet's place, then at his Turks. "I want Tuesti brought to me," he decided. "Order the evacuation of Kalm and bring that engineer to me. I want to know what we're up against, if this isn't some scam."

"Hey, I've got a question," Reno said, raising his hand. When Rufus raised a brow at him, he went on. "Why would this guy blow up the city his engineer is being held in, if he's so determined to get him back?"

Rufus' expression relaxed thoughtfully. "He wouldn't...unless he's afraid Tuesti will tell us his weakness if he stays in our custody."

"Makes sense," Reno said, and Rude nodded. "He'll kill him if he can't get him back. Either way, he stops him from giving away more of his secrets. That is, if it isn't all bullshit."

"I agree." Rufus smirked. "I think this is all a bluff, ladies and gentlemen. I suppose we'll find out in twenty-four hours, though. I still want Reeve brought to me for further questioning."

* * *

Angeal stumbled through the portal as it began to close, and Genesis came out behind him. The Pharaoh exited the portal with far more grace than his bigger companion, stepping out of it as if walking through a common threshold. Angeal took slow, deep breaths and put his hands on his knees—which were covered in cargo pants. He was dressed in his Banoran clothing, and it felt strange to him now.

"Take a moment to gather your wits," suggested Genesis as the big man shook his head to clear spots from his vision. He looked around cautiously, reaching out with his senses as he picked absently at the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. "I don't know how you can stand wearing all these clothes, Angeal."

"I'm starting to wonder that myself," answered the brunet. When he felt like he could straighten up without passing out, He pushed his bangs away from his forehead did so. The thick canopy of the forest shaded them from the sun, but the air was more humid than Genesis was used to, and Angeal smiled a little when he saw the way the redhead was fanning himself by plucking at his shirt.

"It isn't that hot out, today," Angeal said.

"I don't like these clothes," informed the Pharaoh, looking down at himself with an unhappy scowl on his comely face. "And I _really_ dislike the thought of common humans seeing me like this, with no mask and no paint."

"You mean the way nature intended you?" Angeal smiled again. "You don't need the kohl or the painted nails or the jewelry. You need to try and blend in, if this plan of yours is going to work. You can't go around _looking_ like a seraph...let alone the Pharaoh. Above all, you need to calm down. Your eyes are glowing too much, and it's going to give you away immediately the minute anyone gets close enough to see them."

"Then give me those things you mentioned earlier," insisted Genesis. "The sunglasses."

Angeal took the item in question out of his pocket, and he showed Genesis how to put them on. "There. Pretend it's your mask. Maybe it will make you feel better."

"The only thing that will make me feel better will be to cut down the miscreants that took this village and return home, so I can dress more like myself again." He reached back and plucked at the loose denim pants, trying to loosen them around his butt. He'd borrowed his clothing from Zack, and he squirmed and fretted and scratched like it was smothering him. "I'm going to get a rash," he predicted sourly.

Angeal covered his mouth and coughed into his hand, afraid he might laugh. Genesis was kind of adorable right now, in his petulance. "Imagine how I felt when I was shipped off to Menephera and forced to go from this to practically nothing in one day."

Genesis looked him up and down, his gaze concealed behind the shaded lenses he wore. "I say the Menephera garb was a vast improvement." He gave Angeal a dazzling smile then, tempting him without even trying to. "At least the garb from _my_ country isn't this...scratchy."

"Have you ever worn a slave's loincloth?" challenged Angeal. "Don't talk to me about 'scratchy material' until you have. It makes my balls itch just to think about it."

Genesis parted his lips in surprise. "Now you sound like Zackary," he huffed, obviously trying not to laugh.

Angeal enjoyed his veiled amusement, silently treasuring it. "I guess he's a bad influence on me." He looked around and got his bearings. "Banora is—"

"That way," Genesis said before he could finish, pointing to the southwest. "Unless my memory deceives me."

"No, that's right," answered Angeal with a nod.

Seeing that there was no immediate threat, he unfastened the straps holding his scabbard and big, heavy sword to his back. He slipped out of the harness and he handed it over to his companion. Genesis took it with a somber expression, and when he looked as though he might say something to him, Angeal shook his head and stepped closer to caress his face.

"We agreed that this was the best option, if we're going to save my parents and free Banora. I trust you to do your part. All I need to do is stay alive and cooperate with them, until your forces make it here to liberate us."

Genesis sighed softly. "And I'll be leading that charge, Angeal. You can count on it. I want these Shinra people to witness first-hand the consequences of invading lands that are under my protection."

Angeal smirked. "I almost expected you to refer to these islands as 'your lands'."

Genesis shrugged. "They aren't, though. They're _your_ lands, even if you refuse to claim them. Either way, they _are_ under my protection and thus, they fall under my domain."

"You could have just said you want to protect Banora," teased Angeal.

"You choose a strange time to play the jester," grumbled the Pharaoh unhappily.

Angeal lowered his mouth to his and kissed him softly. "I just want to approach this with a positive attitude, and hope in my heart. If you weren't here, I don't think I could manage that. Just try to avoid getting captured yourself...and don't look at me that way. It _can_ be done, no matter how powerful you are."

Genesis pressed his forehead against Angeal's, and he put his arms around his neck. "If they try to take you away from here before my forces arrive—"

"_Don't_ intervene," insisted the big man, embracing him around the waist. "Track me with the collar, instead...just as we planned."

* * *

Genesis impulsively traced the cool surface of the collar secured around Angeal's throat. It was once a shackle of slavery, but now it was a symbol of promise. The only way a mortal could remove it would be to take Angeal's head with it, and goddess help anyone that tried _that_. Angeal's hand covered his, and the earnest, dark blue eyes held his gaze.

"Remember, I'm yours. You'll get me back, whatever happens."

Genesis smirked to hide his anxiety. "Indeed, I will. No-one else is worthy of laying hands on you, Anjiru. I'll kill them all, before I allow them to try."

"I don't think they're interested in bedding me," said the big man with a little smile.

"No?" Genesis couldn't quite smile back. "They'll want to know everything about you. They'll want to know why your wing is on the opposite side from ours, and why it's white, instead of black. They'll want to know if you're a pureblood or a halfblood, and they may want to try and breed you, too."

Angeal frowned. "I was hoping you wouldn't mention all of that."

Genesis did manage a chuckle at that, and he rubbed Angeal's shoulders. "How could they pass up the opportunity to try and perpetuate the genetics of such a fine specimen? If I were capable of it, I'd be tempted to have your babies myself."

Angeal looked away and coughed, and then he compressed his lips. He took a moment to compose himself before answering in a somewhat uneven voice. "That...that would be a sight to see. You, waddling around with a pregnant belly. I can't decide if it's endearing or scary."

"Hmm, scary." Genesis kissed the corners of his mouth, then swiped his tongue teasingly over Angeal's lips. "I would be impossible to live with, but I would certainly enjoy the mating required to induce such a horrid state. I expect you to fuck me like we're the last of our kind on Gaia, when this is over with."

Angeal flushed, making the Pharaoh grin. "You know I'd do that even if we _weren't_ the last seraphim on Gaia, and it wouldn't be because I'm trying to make babies with you."

Genesis patted his bottom. "Good answer. Now shoo, before I change my mind and take you away from this place."

Angeal looked vaguely surprised by the affectionate treatment, and Genesis cursed himself for it. They were both acting unusual, because there was every chance this could be the last time they saw each other. Refusing to accept that, the Pharaoh made another shooing motion and raised his brows expectantly. Angeal smirked and turned, then, walking away toward the distant village. Genesis watched him go with a sigh.

"Blessed Minerva, grant me your patience not to burn these insolent mortals the moment they lay hands on my Anjiru."

* * *

-To be continued


	19. Chapter 19

"Patterns in the sand"

A FF7 AU fanfiction

Chapter 19

* * *

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all related characters belong to Square-Enix. I do not own any of it, and I make no profit from writing this fanfiction. This is an exercise in creativity and entertainment, only.**

* * *

Tifa hurried forward with the other villagers to greet them as Zack and Cloud disembarked from the airship that had landed just outside the jungle. Cloud smiled in his quiet little way when he saw her, and he hugged her back when she embraced him.

"How did everything go?" she asked. "Is there any word on when I can return home?"

Cloud sobered and glanced at the Wolf Lord, who seemed unusually subdued and downcast. Zack gave orders to the ship's crew and the hunters of Gongaga, while Cloud took Tifa off to the side near the forest's edge, away from the noise.

"You can't go home yet," he told her softly. "It's still not safe."

Tifa sighed. "Then I want to get word to my parents, at least. It's been too _long_, Cloud. They need to know I'm still alive."

"I know," he sighed, "and I completely understand. If my mother was still around, I would want her to know I was okay, too. You just need to remember there's a _reason_ we haven't told them yet."

"I understand why I can't go back yet," she said, planting her hands on her hips, "but I don't see why we can't at least contact them! They won't tell the village, not if it could endanger everyone."

Cloud nodded, lowering his topaz gaze. "I'll talk to Zack about it. I'm sure he'll do what he can."

She relaxed a little, and she put her arms around him for another hug. "Thanks, Cloud. Come on, I made some sausages the way my mother makes them. You always liked her recipe, didn't you?"

He nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah. Um…Tifa…mind if we wait for Zack, first? He could use a little cheering up."

She leaned a little to the side to look past the blond man at the handsome seraph in the distance, who was finishing up giving orders to his people. He really did look strangely serous, compared to how he was before he left for Menephera. Tifa frowned at the sight of him, and she looked at Cloud again.

"What happened?"

Cloud scratched his fluffy golden head and shrugged. "A lot. There's a chance that we could be looking at a full-fledged war between ShinRa forces and the Seraphim. Zack's going to secure his borders as best he can, but if they target Gongaga, it might fall."

She paled. "But I thought Gongaga was at peace with them."

"With Wutai. ShinRa never declared a peace treaty with any other sovereign nations, and Wutai is allied to them."

Tifa blinked. In such a short time, Cloud had gone from the shy teenager she once knew to this stoic, confident young man before her. He was still quiet and a little broody, but in a more mature way. "You sound like you learned a lot about international politics, while you were visiting that desert city."

"Well, Zack…um…made me his advmmer"

"What?" Tifa leaned closer. "I didn't catch that last part."

"I said, I'm the royal advisor," answered Cloud, blushing.

Maybe that shy teen boy was still in there, after all. Tifa covered her mouth on a giggle. "Zack's royal advisor? The green smoking, scruffy country-boy?"

"Hey, he took us in," reminded Cloud defensively. He stuck his hands in his pockets and drew a pattern in the dirt with the toe of his boot. "And we're…kind of a couple now, too."

Tifa didn't think it was possible for her eyebrows to go up any higher than they were. "Well that is…nice. H-how long have you been…you know?"

He shrugged. "Not too long. Things have been so crazy, this is the first chance I've had to tell you."

She looked at Zack, and she smiled in spite of herself. She had always worried that Cloud might not find someone, given his preferences and his introverted nature. She never would have expected him to land a seraph, but Zack was certainly a handsome, charming creature. She really couldn't blame her friend.

"Let's try to cheer him up a little, then," Tifa offered. "The least I can do is make sure he has a good meal and some company. It must weigh heavily on him, to have all these people to look after and protect."

Cloud smiled. "I knew you would understand. It isn't just all the responsibility that has him down; he's worried about Aerith, too. The Serpent King wouldn't let her come with us, for her own safety."

Tifa frowned and tilted her head, walking with Cloud toward the ship. "Who is Aerith?"

"His lover. She's one of the Serpent King's water maidens."

The brunet stopped in her tracks and ogled her friend. "_Excuse me_?" When Cloud turned and looked at her with wide blue eyes, she knew he hadn't meant to just blurt it out like that. "I thought _you_ were his lover, now."

Cloud winced, and his golden lashes concealed his gaze as he lowered his eyes again. "I am, but so is she. It's a little complicated."

Tifa looked at the dark-haired seraph that had begun to approach them. "So the two of you…share him?"

Cloud looked up, his gaze following hers. "Maybe it isn't so complicated, after all."

His voice was a low mumble, and Tifa had to strain to understand him. She sighed, but she couldn't very well pester him for details with Zack approaching. She gave the Wolf Lord an unfriendly look, none too happy with the arrangement she'd just learned of.

"He had better not hurt you, Cloud."

* * *

Genesis kept the cloaking magic around him as he followed Angeal to the village. There were guards stationed at the edge of town, but they let Angeal pass with a glance at each other when he announced who he was and explained that he was there to exchange his freedom for the lives of his parents. They passed by small dwellings on the way, appearing empty to the Pharaoh's eyes. He carefully avoided passing too close to the few villagers that were out and about, silently watching the ShinRa military troops and Turk operatives stationed throughout the settlement.

_~They came well-armed,~ _thought Genesis, narrowing his eyes behind the shaded lenses of his sunglasses, _~and well-organized. I suppose I should respect them for that. Inferior though they might be, they do outnumber us and their weaponry is nothing to underestimate."~_

He thought of the way they had captured Sephiroth and his advisor, and he doubled his guard. He watched Angeal's broad back, and he clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react when some of the occupying guards began to follow the big man. Villagers refused to make eye contact with Angeal when they saw him, but most of them failed to hide their surprised and hopeful expressions upon recognizing him.

_~They hope not to give him away,~_ observed Genesis silently, _~but the fools don't know how to school their own expressions, and Angeal is not the kind of man to blend in with commoners, even if he hadn't blatantly announced who he was at the barricades.~_

Indeed, Hewley's size and physique alone was enough to draw anyone's eyes to him, but the ShinRa personnel stationed here more than likely already had photo identification to go by. They would have recognized him without any help from him or the villagers. The militia guards were getting uncomfortably close, and Genesis realized with a pang that he couldn't remain within his lover's proximity for long, before one of he humans bumped into him by chance. He couldn't alert them to his presence just yet. They still needed to locate Angeal's parents and ensure their safety, before acting.

Reluctantly, the Pharaoh took to the air. The sweep of his wing stirred the dirt in the road, and people looked around with wary suspicion at the sudden, unexpected fan of warm air. Genesis didn't hover over them—much as he wanted to stay close. They would most certainly hear the flap of his wing and his invisibility couldn't prevent that. He sought out a shady area behind one of the houses lining the dirt road, and he landed there and watched from the shadows as Angeal walked steadily through the village. Despite the ruin of the situation, Genesis had to admire the bigger seraph's solid stoicism. Angeal looked neither left nor right as his footsteps carried him, and he held his hands out to show that he was unarmed when the enemy closed ranks around him.

"I'm here for my parents," Angeal told them calmly, his gaze taking in each and every one of them as he turned in a circle. "Take me to whoever's in charge here, so that I can negotiate for their release. Refuse and I'll find them myself…and not _one_ of you will be able to stop me. That's a promise."

The guards exchanged uncertain looks between them, until a middle-aged man in a Turk uniform stepped forward and urged them aside so that he could speak with Angeal. "You will allow us to take you into custody?"

Angeal nodded, his expression stony and determined. "At least until I get confirmation that my parents are alive and well. Whether I remain in your custody depends on negotiations."

The little thrill that went through Genesis in response to his confident declaration was practically sexual, and he smirked. "You _are_ born to be a leader, Anjiru," he whispered under his breath, "even if you refuse to acknowledge it."

He followed silently as Angeal was escorted away. The brunet spared a glance over his shoulder, and Genesis guessed he could sense his presence, even if he couldn't see him. He wondered if he took comfort in that. Frankly, the Pharaoh hadn't experienced anxiety like this since his naming day, and he didn't much care for it. He could only imagine how Angeal must be feeling, right now.

* * *

"I'm going to make this simple, Mr. Tuesti," explained Rufus Shinra to his captive. "I would rather not have you tortured further, but we have quite a situation on our hands. It appears you weren't lying to me after all about your strange ally, and now I need you to tell me more. The lives of innocents may hang in the balance, you see."

Reeve looked up from the chair he was shackled to in the president's office, and he frowned. They'd seen to his most recent injuries again, but he knew he could most likely expect further pain, soon enough.

"What convinced you I was telling the truth?"

Rufus turned in his chair and he nodded at Rude, who stood behind him to the left. The bald man walked over to the television and turned it on. He activated the reel player beside it, and he stepped back.

"Shortly after your escape attempt, we received a long-range broadcast from Junon," explained Rufus as the black and white screen flickered to life. "A creature referring to himself as the 'Harbinger' issued a threat to ShinRa, informing us of his intention to destroy the town of Kalm as a demonstration of his power."

Reeve went pale, and he looked at the screen when a picture came up. Sure enough, the coldly handsome face of Vincent Valentine looked back out at him. Even in this perilous, delicate moment, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Vincent's face. He watched and listened to the recorded broadcast, his jaw dropping a little.

Surely, Vincent wouldn't…but he would. Reeve knew it in his bones. He was beyond caring about the loss of a few human lives, if it would ultimately help him to achieve his goal and knock ShinRa and the Seraphim kingdoms down from their seats of power. Vincent despised ultimate authority, and he wanted nothing more than to see it erased from Gaia. He blamed ShinRa for the loss of his mate and child, and while he had no grudge against the Seraphim, he believed they were getting too arrogant and too dangerous, living as demi-gods.

When the broadcast was over with, Reeve turned his attention back to Rufus. "So now you believe me. Good for you. I've been very candid with you, Mr. President. I don't know what more you think I can tell you."

"You can tell me about his weaknesses," insisted Rufus, "and whether he's bluffing or not. I suspect he is, but there _is_ the matter of the building materials you didn't fully account for, and the explosion reported to me off the coast of Junon. I want to know everything, Reeve…everything there is to know about this creature and his intentions. I want to know how you've been helping him and what else he has in store for us."

"I've already told you." Reeve shrugged as best he could in his bound condition.

"You've given me a facetious tale of allying yourself with a demon," reminded Rufus in warning tones. "I want to know everything you can tell me; all of the details you left out. This creature is obviously akin to the Seraphim, yet he isn't one of them. I'm reluctant to believe that demons truly exist."

"Why shouldn't they?" reasoned the engineer. "Seraphim do. We've found evidence that the Cetra did, as well."

"And yet demon lore remains a thing of legend," insisted the president. "There has never been any substantial proof of their existence. So how did this creature come to be the way he is? Is he, perhaps, a corrupted seraph; a fallen angel, as it were?"

Reeve carefully hid his internal reactions, fighting to urge to whistle softly. Rufus was close…_too_ close. "I'm not sure," he answered when he noticed Rude withdrawing a pair of brass knuckles from his blazer. "He's connected to the Lifestream. That's all I can tell you about that. As for weaknesses, you're right; he's very similar to a seraph. Chances are, he shares some of the same weaknesses…if they _have_ any."

Rufus watched him silently, his attractive features brooding as he drummed his fingertips over the surface of the desk. "I'm afraid that isn't the answer I was looking for, Mr. Tuesti. Granted, we can't damage you too severely. Your friend wants you back, for whatever reason. I'd rather not kill you anyway. Up until recently, you've been of good service to my organization. The question is, what shall I _do_ to get a more truthful answer from you? I've lost Scarlet, thanks to your actions. What body part should I take as recompense?"

Reeve swallowed, and he unconsciously pressed his thighs together when the president's gray-blue eyes settled briefly on his crotch. Rufus smirked, his gaze meeting the engineer's.

"Oh, don't worry. We'll leave that part intact, for now. If I castrate you, there won't be much reason for you to live, will there? No, I think we'll begin with something simpler and less valuable to you. Don't mistake this for mercy, Reeve. You're going to suffer. How long and how badly is up to you."

Reeve's heart sank and he wondered what the odds were of Vincent just blowing Midgar up and calling it a day. It seemed like the faster, less painful route to the afterlife.

* * *

Reno met up with his partner in the hallway, after Rude left the president's office. He looked up at the taller man with a grimace as they fell into step together, noticing that he held a sealed container in his hand.

"What's the word, partner?"

Rude looked down at the item, and he glanced over his shoulder as the office door opened and two guards shuffled a staggering Reeve off in the opposite direction. "We've got a delivery to send to Junon."

Reno made a face again. "Ya know, I'm the last guy to preach caution, but I'm not sure pissing this demon-seraph thing off even more is the right move to make."

Rude shrugged. "The president thinks a reminder that we have what he wants might make this guy reconsider his actions."

"Pfft, or it'll convince him to forget about making an example of Kalm and come right after us. I'm usually on board with whatever ballsy move the boss comes up with, but I dunno about this plan."

Rude looked ahead, his stoic expression slipping the tiniest bit. "Me either."

"Guess we'd better just do what we're told and keep our fingers crossed," sighed Reno, "but I'm getting Cissnei the hell out of here."

Rude glanced at him.

"I don't want her near this place right now," explained Reno.

"I get that, but she's a Turk," reminded the bald man.

"No shit. Doesn't matter to me, right now. It ain't just about her."

Rude's pierced eyebrow lifted a bit. "Something you need to tell me, Red?"

Reno shrugged. "Well uh...I guess she's going to make an honest man of me after all. I kinda dig her." He slipped a finger under his collar and tugged on it, as if he found it too constrictive even unbuttoned as it was.

Rude cracked a smile. "You've got it bad."

"Shut up."

The bigger Turk obligingly changed the subject, at least slightly. "Do you really think she's going to go if you tell her to?"

Reno looked down and scuffed his shoe on the floor. "Not a fucking chance. I'll figure out something, though."

Rude sighed. "Let's just get this done."

* * *

Rude and Reno got the package sent off to Junon, choosing two of their most trusted Turk underlings to get it there safe and sound. Word came in from Elena in Wutai that Tseng had agreed to hear Rufus' proposals and consider them, though he was very reluctant to get immersed in an all-out war between humankind and Seraphim. Meanwhile, Hollander had gone to Banora to "assist" the ShinRa personnel there, but both Turks suspected he had ulterior motives that directly involved the seraph that Heidegger was trying to lure in.

"Shit's going to hell in a hand basket fast," muttered Reno absently as he checked his portable phone for reception. He cursed and held it up, waving it around. "I fucking hate this part of town. Can't get reception worth spit."

Rude took out his phone and tested it as well. "The plate blocks it."

Reno sighed. "Then let's get back up there. If I can't reach Cissnei on the phone, I'm heading for her place."

"So you've got a plan?" Rude's gaze was impassive behind the shades he wore.

"Yeah, I'll grab her," answered Reno.

"Not a good plan, Red." Rude shook his head.

Reno spread his hands. "Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do, if she won't listen to reason?"

"Let her be a Turk and decide for herself?"

Reno glared at him. "Whose side are you on, anyway? Quit being a smartass."

Rude quietly fell into step with him as he headed back for the sleek black four-door company car they'd taken to the lower levels of the city. "Whipped."

"Bullshit," argued the redhead, opening the door. "Whipped guys do whatever their girls tell them to do. We're doing this my way."

Rude snorted, but he didn't offer any further argument. He climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up while Reno started the car. They made it onto the highway when the car's radio transmitter went off. It was Rufus Shinra's newest Weapons Adjutant, advising all top-ranking ShinRa and Turk personnel to get to Headquarters, immediately. Reno and Rude looked at each other, both wearing a faintly anxious expression. Reno pulled off at the next exit to take the fastest route back to the upper plate and Headquarters.

* * *

Elena stood with Tseng and watched the broadcast. The tea sat forgotten in her hands and she barely felt his arm around her waist. The flickering image on the screen was of Kalm town, and the broadcast they were getting was approximately a half-hour out of synch with real time. Tseng had received urgent news from his advisors, and he took Elena with him into his office to view the broadcast from Midgar.

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Elena's voice sounded small to her own ears. She'd already reviewed the first warning broadcast, sent over a secure signal from the president himself. She also got a phone call from Rude suggesting she stay in Wutai until they knew exactly what they were up against.

"The reports say that Kalm is no longer there," Tseng murmured, his dark eyes fixated on the screen. "We will find out soon enough."

"But what could wipe out—" Elena's query was cut off when a beam of light streaked through the air toward the peaceful town of Kalm, and she stared with wide eyes. "What in the hell _is_ that?"

It wasn't a missile, and it sure as hell wasn't a beam of sunlight, either. It almost appeared solid, but it glowed with a brilliance that surely must have blinded anyone watching it with naked eyes. Elena squinted impulsively as it hit the center of town, and then everything around it seemed to collapse and get blown away, as if by a hot wind. Waves of visible heat spread out from ground zero, and a mushroom cloud formed over the doomed settlement.

"I stand corrected," Tseng said calmly when the picture died into static snow. "Not even Rufus would conduct such an act to gain my support. This is no scam."

"I...I _told_ you that already," Elena whispered, wondering where her voice went. She imagined there wasn't much color left in her face at all. She somehow retained her wits enough to remember the original purpose of her visit. "So...what are you going to do, Tseng? Do you think the situation is serious enough, now?"

The Wutai leader sipped his tea, and he nodded. "I will secure the borders of ShinRa territory to the north of Menephera. I'll also contact the Wolf Lord and discuss this matter with him. I want to know if he or the other Seraphim are involved, or if they are even aware of these events."

Tseng turned to her, his sculpted features annoyingly impassive as he gently touched her wrist and urged her to drink her tea. "Calmly, Elena. Don't forget, I have my own borders to concern myself with. I can't turn my back on my own people to face down this threat with ShinRa, but I will lend my help where I can. The Turks should understand this."

Elena sighed. "We should focus some effort into finding that annoying little rebel of yours. If we could get _her_ out of the way, you'd be free to lend more aid to ShinRa."

Tseng's lips quirked. "The thief in the hills isn't as much of a threat as the sympathy she provokes from the citizens. I'll deal with her on my own terms. You, in the meantime, should try and relax, and stay here in safety."

"I have to get back," she protested. "They're going to need level heads if that monster turns that...that ray thing on Midgar."

"And they will need someone to come in and help pick up the pieces, should the worst happen and Midgar take a hit." Tseng caressed her shoulder. "You're more valuable as a knight than a pawn, my dear."

Elena sighed again, unable to refute his logic. She looked at the snow on the screen again and she sipped her cooling tea. She thought of her Turk companions at home and she grimaced at the thought of them getting fried. "Be safe, guys. Don't do anything stupid."

* * *

As soon as he saw the results of the Junon Cannon firing on Kalm, Reno was gone like a ghost from the board room. His partner no sooner turned to say something in response to his blurted curse than he was out the door, leaving only emptiness in the space he'd just occupied. Reno didn't wait to see if Rude or anyone else would follow him. He took the fire escape rather than wait for the elevator, leaping down whole flights in his haste and nearly twisting his ankle in the process.

Cissnei barely made it out of her office before her frazzled-looking boyfriend closed in on her. "Reno, did you see the broadcast?"

"Do I normally look like this over everyday shit?" Reno grabbed her by the arm. "Come on."

"Hey, what are you doing?" Cissnei dug her heels in and fought his pull as he tried to drag her down the hall. "Reno, _stop it_! Tell me what's going on!"

"Ya just _saw_ what's going on," he told her, looking around with quick, sharp eyes. He changed his trajectory and pulled her with him. "This way is faster. We're heading for the airport."

"What?" Cissnei suddenly kicked out, hitting him in the back of the knee just hard enough to make his leg buckle and break his hold on her arm. "Damn you, Reno, you are going to tell me what you're trying to do _right now_! You're scaring me."

He rubbed his leg and looked her over, taking in her wide brown eyes, delicate features and slight build. He shook his head. "No way am I letting you stay here, toots. I'm getting you on the next flight out of here."

Cissnei backed up when he reached for her again, and she settled into a defensive pose. "Grab me again and I go for the balls."

He hesitated, shifting anxiously in place with frustration. "We don't have time for this, Ciss. The next place that weapon's gonna be aiming will be straight here, at _us_. I want to get you out of here before that happens."

"Well, it isn't up to you," she insisted. "It's up to me...or Veld, if he decides the Turks need to evacuate Midgar. Until I get that order, I'm staying here with the rest of you."

Reno compressed his lips, and she put her hands on her hips and gave him a challenging look. He deflated and dropped his hands to the sides. "I just don't want to see you get blown up."

Cissnei gave him an understanding little smile, and she relaxed and approached to put her hands on his shoulders. "I don't want to see _you_ get blown up, either. Or Rude...or anyone else. I'm not leaving you behind, though. I have my job just like you, and right now, that's containing this mess and working with the organization to stop this threat; or at least slow it down."

He put his arms around her. "You'll give me gray hairs before this is finished," he predicted. "I never used to worry about anyone like this."

"Then I must be doing something right," she teased. She gave him a brief kiss on the lips. "You ran out on a meeting to come and kidnap me, didn't you?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Cissnei gave him a little swat on the bottom. "Then we'd better get back, before they send someone looking for you and accuse you of attempted desertion."

* * *

In his cell, Reeve looked up at the scientist that came in to visit him, and he suppressed a shudder as the light from the overhead fixture glinted on Hojo's glasses. The scientist squatted down before him after nodding at the guards to shut the door behind him. He gave Reeve an unsavory smile, and he patted the case hanging at his hip by the shoulder strap.

"Would you like something for the pain now, Mr. Tuesti?"

"I'll manage without it," Reeve said. He clutched his wrapped hand tighter to his chest, discouraging the other man from reaching for it to have a look.

"Oh come now," urged Hojo, "it's beginning to bleed through the bandages. I need to properly cauterize it, at least. You can suffer through the pain if you like, but—"

"Go fuck yourself, bony."

Hojo's brows shot up at the insult. "My, my...aren't we uppity for a man who's just lost...what was it again?"

"My ability to flip you off with my right hand," answered the engineer crossly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some bleeding to do."

"You'll bleed out at this rate, if it isn't seen to," predicted Hojo. "Must I have the guards come in and subdue you, Mr. Tuesti?"

"It looks like you must." Reeve glared at him from beneath lowered brows, the throbbing pain in his hand leaving no room for tact. "I won't let you anywhere near me with a needle, without a fight."

Hojo shrugged. "So be it. Sit tight then, engineer. I'll return in a moment."

Reeve briefly wondered what the creepy man intended to go and retrieve, but when the door opened again, he caught a snatch of conversation going on between the guards outside and his heart thudded hard against his ribcage in reaction.

"Blew up Kalm completely," one was saying. "They evacuated in time, but this 'Harbinger' isn't playing around. He might—"

The door shut and locked again, cutting off the rest of the conversation. Reeve stared dumbly into space for a moment, mentally reviewing what he'd heard. "You did it," he whispered. "You really did it...and I'll bet you wouldn't have stopped if there had been people there."

On the one hand, it gave him some hope of rescue. On the other, what was to say Vincent wouldn't unleash that power on more settlements? Reeve's mouth pulled into something between a ghastly smile and a grimace.

* * *

Completely unaware of the fate of Kalm or the struggle going on to the north, Angeal allowed the occupying soldiers to take him to what used to be the big Inn, near the center of town. He was escorted inside to the lobby, where a portly man with a thick, wiry black beard and swept-back hair of the same color sat behind the reception desk. The man was filling out some sort of paperwork, and he looked up when the Turk leader called out to him.

"Heidegger, we've procured the target," said the Turk with a nod at Angeal. "He's agreed to cooperate, in exchange for the safety of his parents."

The bearded man stood up, watching Angeal with an impressed expression on his ruddy features. "You're sure this is him?"

Angeal manifested his wing, startling the guards near him enough to make them fall back with a gasp. The appendage pushed through the slit he'd made in the back of his shirt, and it filled a large part of the right side of the room, forcing people to move aside.

"Convinced now?" Angeal's gaze was cold and steady on him.

Heidegger cleared his throat, visibly trying not to stare at the spectacle. "Fine, you're him." He turned to one of the guards that had escorted him. "Why isn't he bound?"

"He agreed to come with us peacefully," answered the Turk sternly. "I doubt we would have easily restrained him, had he chosen differently."

Heidegger frowned at the Turk. "I'm in charge here, Veld, not you. I want this seraph in chains, to ensure he doesn't slip away."

Angeal glared challengingly and though he had no weapon beyond his own physique and his wing, nobody was eager to close in on him. "If you try it, I'll tear this place down around your ears. I'll give you my full cooperation once I see my parents safe and unharmed. I want to see them walk out of this village without any opposition. Once that happens, I'll give myself over to your authority completely."

The Turk named Veld looked at Heidegger expectantly. "Well? Those _were_ the conditions of their release set down by the president, if this Seraph were to show up. Are we going to have a disagreement on this, Heidegger?"

For a moment, the bearded man looked like he might argue with him, but he grunted and nodded, taking his seat again. "Bring them down and make the trade, while I get on the phone with the president."

* * *

"Son, what are you _doing_ here?" Angeal's distraught mother pushed away from her escorts immediately when she entered the lobby and saw him, and his father quickly joined her side. Angeal hugged her gently and tried to shush her when she began assaulting him with questions.

"Mother, I had no choice," he said to her, "and that's all you need to know."

His father shook his head, casting a grim look around at their captors. "There's always a choice, son. You shouldn't have come back."

Angeal gave him a humorless smile. "Would I be the son you raised, if I hadn't?"

Mr. Hewley sighed, his expression faltering as he patted his wife's back to comfort her. "What are they going to do to you?"

Angeal looked first at Heidegger, then at Veld. Of the two of them, he trusted the Turk more—which was a strange thing, considering everything he'd heard of their organization. "I don't know," he said honestly, "but they probably want to study me, if they don't try to use me as ransom against the other Seraphim."

"Would they pay it?" demanded Mrs. Hewley. She clutched at Angeal's shirt and looked up at him with worried eyes. "Will they pay for your freedom?"

Angeal couldn't think of a good answer for that. Unfortunately, his parents needed to remain ignorant of his plan, for now. "Don't worry, Mom. Everything's going to be okay."

They started trying to pry Mrs. Hewley off of her adopted son, and she fought against them angrily. "Let go of me! He's my boy! Don't you _touch_ him!"

"Mom, stop," Angeal said helplessly, resisting the urge to reach out for her. "Dad, talk to her."

"Settle down, honey," urged Mr. Hewley immediately, putting his arms around her as they were led away by the guards. "He'll be fine. We've got to trust him and that Pharaoh of his. This isn't going to help."

She bit her lip and looked at Angeal with tearful eyes, and when she tripped over the boot of one of the guards and went down, Angeal reflexively lunged for her. Two guards tried to stop him, but his wing knocked them aside like toys. He lifted his foster mother into his arms and gave the occupying forces a warning glare as he picked her up and set her back onto her feet.

"They walk out of here," Angeal reiterated. "I follow. Once they're safely outside of town, I'll submit to your custody." He looked at Veld. "Do we have a deal?"

The Turk leader nodded, his scarred visage somber. "Of course, as agreed."

* * *

Genesis had to drop his cloaking spell to avoid draining himself, once he saw that they were going to release Angeal's parents. He tried to blend in with the other villagers, walking along as casually as possible as he covertly followed the armed escort. They took the captives to the opposite side of town from where Genesis and Angeal had come in. One of the Turks standing outside a shop took some notice in the tanned redhead as he walked past, and Genesis cursed under his breath as he called out to him.

"You, there, with the sunglasses. Wait up!"

Begging the goddess for patience, Genesis turned to face the man. He wasn't a bad looking sort, and he appeared to be around Genesis' age. He looked a bit uncomfortable in the heat, in that suit he wore, and the Pharaoh couldn't really blame him. Green eyes examined him with interest, set in a vaguely handsome face.

"I don't think I've seen you around here," remarked the Turk. He brushed aside a lock of dark blond hair that blew across his face with the hot breeze, and he looked Genesis up and down. "I would have remembered someone like you, I think."

_~Minerva help me, this fool is trying to seduce me...or make a pass at me, as Zack would say.~_

Genesis forced a smile, watching from the corner of his eye as Angeal and his family got further and further away. "I haven't been here for long."

The man's eyebrows lifted a little, and the intrigue in his eyes deepened. "That's an interesting accent. You aren't from around here?"

"I'm from Corel, originally," lied Genesis, using the name of the first human settlement in his kingdom that sprang to mind. "I came here for the apples. It was supposed to be a short vacation, but...well..." He shrugged and made an encompassing gesture, indicating the situation in Banora. "They won't let anyone leave, now."

"Hm, Corel. I've never met anyone from there, before. That's in the Pharaoh's territory, isn't it?"

"At the edge," agreed Genesis, silently willing this man to shut the hell up and leave him alone. "We trade with Menephera. The Pharaoh protects us, in return."

The Turk snorted. "Right. He makes you lick his sandals, you mean."

Genesis carefully reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to _be_ said Pharaoh, and he did his best to react only with the appropriate umbrage. "That isn't true. We're left to govern our town as we wish. You should stop believing everything you hear on the news broadcasts."

"Hey, don't get offended," soothed the Turk. "Why don't we go inside and talk? I'd like to hear more about where you live and I'm off the clock. We could have a few drinks and maybe I could even help you get out of here and back home."

Genesis sorely wanted to brush him off. His quarry was getting out of sight quickly, and he didn't want to lose track of them. He nearly told the human that he wasn't interested, preparing himself for an argument in the process, but then a better idea came to him. Instead of telling this audacious Turk to go and fornicate with a farm tool as he so richly deserved, Genesis gave him an engaging smile and stepped closer to him.

"Well, I _am_ thirsty. What sort of refreshment did you have in mind?" He reached out and toyed with the man's tie, smoothing it over his chest in a bold, sensual move.

The young Turk swallowed, seeming a little surprised by his agreeable response. "I've got this place the next street over all to myself, until my partner is off the clock. It's not far at all."

Casting one last, covert look at the group walking down the main street, Genesis nodded. He traced the outer shell of the human's ear with his fingertip, drawing a shiver of desire from him. "Lead the way."

* * *

"Gods, you're gorgeous," gasped the Turk against Genesis' throat.

Pressed up against the wall, the Seraph smirked, stroking the foolish human's head with deceptively encouraging motions. "Surely, you exaggerate."

"Not a chance," answered the Turk passionately. He reached for the sunglasses. "I've never seen anyone as hot as you are. I want to see your eyes."

Genesis didn't stop him, and when the shades were propped up on his head, he smiled with quiet menace at the human. "And how do you like my eyes?"

The Turk stared at the glowing, turquoise gaze looking back at him, and he faltered uncertainly. "Wow...those are...intense. They almost glow, like...like..." He trailed off, his eyes widening as a black wing slowly rose and spread from behind Genesis' left side.

"Like a Seraph's?" finished the Pharaoh for him.

The Turk moved with surprising speed, and Genesis was reminded that these creatures were trained in combat as well as any solider—possibly even better. He barely twisted out of the hold that the man tried to get on him and if he'd been human, he had no doubt it could have rendered him unconscious, if the Turk had secured it. Genesis caught hold of the human's wrists and turned, pinning him against the wall.

"You should have left well enough alone," informed the Pharaoh, and a gem on his bracelet lit up as he uttered the words of a spell. He considered killing the idiot, but leaving a dead body behind might draw unwanted attention to him. Instead, he lowered the Turk to the floor as the Sleep spell overcame him. He searched his person for his weapons and he tucked them into the enchanted bag he carried with him, shrugging.

"A souvenir or two," he murmured to the oblivious man, "for the trouble you've put us through. Be thankful that my Anjiru is such a merciful soul, Turk. The thought of his disappointment is all that prevents me from ripping your idiotic head from your shoulders and making a planter of your—"

He stopped himself from rambling further, reminded that his "Anjiru" was being taken to the edge of the village without him. Genesis dropped the switchblade knife into the bag and he secured the Turk with his own manacles, before leaving the small house to resume following his lover.

Thankfully, they took the direct route to the other end of the village, so he was able to catch up to them quickly enough. This time, he kept to the smaller side roads to avoid another unwanted encounter. The humans in Banora seemed to find him exotic, despite his efforts to blend in with all the ridiculous layers of clothing and the sunglasses. When he got to the edge of town, he decided to cast another cloaking spell on himself, just in case. He got close enough to hear Angeal urging them to go to the southern ferry to neighboring Mideel, covertly letting Genesis know where to meet up with them.

The Pharaoh nodded, and he followed a safe distance while the reluctant older couple did as bidden by their adopted son. He cast one look back at his lover as he went, and he saw that Angeal was scanning the horizon with his eyes as if searching for something.

_~I'm here with them,~_ Genesis silently promised him. _~They are under my protection, Anjiru.~_

Now, he just needed to approach them without giving them a heart attack and find somewhere safe to open a portal that would send them to Menephera, where Asim would look after them until he and Angeal returned.

* * *

"I don't want to give it to him. _You_ give it to him."

"Fuck that," argued Wrench. "I had to give him the news the last time. You do it, Phillips."

"That's not really my name, you know."

"It doesn't matter," snapped the young woman under the moniker of "Pliers". She slapped Wrench on the arm for emphasis. "We're all going to be called 'Mud' if someone doesn't deliver this message to Lord Valentine!"

"Then why don't you do it?" Phillips tried to give her the package, and she backed off and held her hands up, shaking her head.

"Because I'm a girl."

Both of her companions stared at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She gave them both a nasty look. "You two are always telling me I shouldn't be involved in the more dangerous work because I'm a girl and I might get hurt. Well, now I can use that to my advantage. You wouldn't let a _girl_ go in there and endanger herself, would you? Otherwise, I call bullshit on every excuse you've made in the past to exclude me from heavy engineering projects!"

"Okay, okay!" Wrench held his hands up, and he looked at the other male sidelong. "I guess we wouldn't be gentlemen if we let her go in there, huh?"

An exasperated voice cut through as the two male engineers began to argue again, and a gloved hand reached out and snatched the package from Phillips' hand. "Gimme that, you pair of pansies. _I'll_ go in there and talk to Gloomy Doompants. Get back to work."

All three of them straightened up and saluted the man with the ash-blond hair, wearing flight goggles propped on his forehead. "Captain Highwind," greeted Phillips. "Thank you for—"

Cid blew a puff of cigar smoke in the mechanic's face, making him cough. "Did I say 'stand around and kiss my ass', kid? Get out of here, before I change my mind."

The three of them took off without argument, leaving the airship pilot standing before the hydraulic doors alone. Cid scratched his head, looked at the wrapped package and shrugged. "Can't be much worse than any of the other news we've gotten so far."

* * *

"Rise and shine, pumpkin. I've got a delivery for you."

Vincent cast an annoyed look at the bold, oil-smudged person entering his chambers, and he briefly wished he hadn't unlocked the door to admit him. "What is it?"

Cid looked at the package in his hand, then at Vincent. He shrugged. "Maybe you've got xray vision, but I don't. You tell me, Valentine."

He tossed the package nonchalantly at the Seraph, forcing Vincent to drop his pen to catch it. Much like Reeve, Cid was one of the only mortals that didn't quake in their boots around him, and it was part of the reason why Vincent kept him around. His manners, however, were appalling. Vincent pulled the small envelope free of the packaging, finding it un-tampered with. He opened it and he read the note inside. He hadn't expected a declaration of surrender from the likes of Rufus Shinra, but he _had _expected to receive some form of parlay request. What he found written on the note instead made his brows furrow.

_"You've shown me yours. Now I'll show you mine."_

Vincent didn't detect any ticking noises from the package, so he presumed it didn't contain some kind of bomb. He looked up at the pilot, who was looking around at the interior of his immaculate office with interest. He pushed the package across the desk toward Cid, and he nodded at it.

"You open it."

Cid frowned around the cigar in his mouth. "Say again?"

"Too much time in your airship's engine room seems to have damaged your hearing," said Vincent coldly. "Open the package, and put that thing out."

Cid took the cigar out of his mouth and he looked around. "Put it out on what?"

"I don't care, so long as you don't sully my carpet or furniture."

Cid muttered something unpleasant under his breath, and he went to a window. "Mind if I open this?"

"Feel free."

The pilot opened the window a crack and shouted out of it abruptly, startling Vincent. "Look out below!" He dropped the cigar out the window, letting it fall from the Junon tower all the way to the streets far below.

Vincent sighed and rubbed his forehead. "The package, Mr. Highwind."

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," advised Cid. He walked over to the package in question, peered at it with suspicious gray-blue eyes and reached for his pocket knife. He cut the twine on it and he unwrapped it, before lifting the lid and looking inside with a bracing expression of one that was ready to run for his life in a split second. He went still when he looked inside, and he grimaced.

"Shit."

"It's full of shit?" Vincent wouldn't put it past Rufus Shinra to send him a package filled with feces, after what he did to Kalm.

"No, but I get the feeling ShinRa's going to be wading deep in it, soon enough." Cid slid the box over to Vincent. "Take a look."

Now more curious than he cared to admit, Vincent leaned over the desk to peer into the opened box. Nestled in a bedding of cotton was a severed human finger. By the looks of it, whoever cut it off hadn't taken care to cut at the joint. The jagged flesh at the end of the graying finger left little doubt that it had been a painful process. He didn't immediately understand, and he stared at the finger in quiet confusion, but then he noticed something.

He looked more closely, to be certain. There was a scar on the second knuckle of the finger—a scar that Vincent knew well. He'd felt that scar grazing his body by the back of its owner's hand, many times. This wasn't Rufus Shinra's finger. It belonged to Reeve Tuesti.

Vincent blinked. He should have known the president was capable of doing something like this, but he supposed he'd expected him to show more common sense. He'd made it clear to the man that he wanted Reeve back. Sending only a piece of him was not only insulting, but malicious in a way that Vincent—the _old_ Vincent, couldn't comprehend. The hybrid creature that he was now could certainly understand it, however.

"This is meant to rattle me," he said softly, "to force me to act out of emotion, rather than wit."

"That's usually the aim in situations like this," agreed Cid. "So uh...do you think that's Tuesti's finger?"

"Undoubtedly," answered Vincent. He picked the item up and he lifted his glasses to study it more closely. "But the president has erred. He's done me a favor, by doing this."

While Cid gave him a perplexed look, Vincent replaced the severed finger in the box, closed the lid and slipped the package into an inner pocket of his cloak. The demonic Seraph stood up and he went to the window, looking through the stained glass with narrowed eyes of amber and crimson. They shifted, trading colors back and forth as Vincent gazed out at the evening horizon.

"Mind telling me how exactly this counts as a favor?" pressed Cid.

Vincent smirked coldly. "Now I have a trace that they won't be able to detect with their technology. I have methods older and more subtle than they could ever imagine."

"Uh-huh. I hate to piss on your parade, but don't you have a cannon to man?"

Vincent turned around and looked at him. "No. _You_ do...until I return."

If Cid had still been smoking his cigar, it would have fallen out of his mouth with his surprise. "You're really going to go in there to get him? Have you even _seen_ Midgar before?"

"Of course," answered Vincent calmly. He opened the window completely, and the wind came through and made his cloak flare out behind him dramatically. He turned to regard Cid as he put one booted foot on the edge of the open windowsill. "If any ShinRa forces attempt to approach this territory by air, land or sea, you are to fire on them. Is that understood?"

Cid nodded. "Yeah, but...shit...shouldn't you just—"

"I won't leave them to send me gruesome little packages like school children playing a prank on the elderly. It's time I remove their presumed advantage."

Cid scratched his head. "It's your call. I just hope this doesn't blow up in our faces."

While the pilot watched, Vincent spread his wings and jumped out the window. With a few powerful flaps, he leveled out and soared over the harbor, heading north with speed that might have kept up with some air ships. Cid watched until he was no more than a speck in his vision, and then he looked around and shrugged. He took a seat in Vincent's office chair and he relaxed with a sigh, leaning back in it and propping his booted feet on the edge of the desk.

"Might as well get comfy," he reasoned.

* * *

To be continued


End file.

Final Fantasy VII, Fantasy, Romance